Nobody But Yourself
by knitzkampf
Summary: The holomessage wasn't meant for Luke, and neither was the woman who recorded it. A quiet retelling of the OT, filled with missing moments and probably making my own ending forty years from ANH. Rating is for language (Han's fault).
1. Chapter 1

_The excitement about Star Wars today would not not be possible without the wonderful impact of A New Hope long ago. Time and modern treatments haven't been kind to Luke, Han or Leia, and they don't deserve that. So this is an appreciation of the OT. It will mostly follow the events of the films, but be made up more with missing moments, and completely ignore TFA. Hope you enjoy!_

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Luke hastened to catch up to his uncle. It was early morning, the day still young, the temperature only moderately warm on the desert.

Luke was actually looking forward to the day. It was not often he woke feeling good about a day's prospects, but this was going to be a good day. Anything that helped break the routine of moisture farming was a good day. Today was almost like a holiday. He wasn't dressed up, Aunt Beru wasn't cooking up a storm, they weren't going visiting, but the Jawas were coming out to the homestead to sell. That alone would use up the morning.

Uncle hoped to buy some droids to help around the farm. Uncle was finally coming around; slowly, he was starting to understand that Luke was forming his own idea of how to lead his life, and that this idea did not involve moisture farming. Luke kept his fingers crossed the Jawas would have some good ones this time.

The Jawas were scavengers, roving the desert for metal artifacts. It wasn't often something came along in the desert for them to rehaul into something practical. And they had little to work with, so what they got broken was serviced just enough to last while you bargained with them. It usually broke when you brought it home.

They were tiny, smelly, fascinating creatures, the Jawas. Luke had always wanted to see inside the huge sandcrawler, where the Jawas lived and worked, their nomadic metal home, but had never been invited. Jawas and humans on Tatooine had a polite relationship. Humans probably saw themselves as superior. After all, Jawas were trying to make credits off of them. But they couldn't be trusted, and Jawas sensed that, so something like a friendship was not thought of.

The Jawas prodded service droids fitted with restraining bolts to gather in a group on the sand in front of the sandcrawler. _The sales floor_ , his uncle called it. Sometimes he had a very sardonic view of Tatooine life, and Luke wondered why he stayed. Or maybe his uncle regarded himself as part of that Tatooine life, and that was just his sense of humor.

Luke didn't share the sardonic viewpoint, but he knew he didn't want to stay. Moisture farming was joyless. At least it was to Luke. The only thing it did for him was fuel his imagination. While he toiled he fantasized about wrangling Krayt dragons, killing Jabba the Hutt in a duel, winning the Intergalactic Swoop Open. But it was all his uncle knew and did, and he must have gotten some satisfaction from it. He liked it and Luke didn't. That was the crux of their relationship. Uncle Owen took it personally that his nephew rejected moisture farming. He resented Luke's desire to be something different.

It was his aunt and uncle's fault, Luke had decided long ago. Their name was Lars. They'd raised him since he was a baby, _we love you like a son,_ Beru would tell him, but they kept his family name, Skywalker. He wasn't a Lars to them. It was to honor his parents, they'd told him, but they never would tell anything about his mother or father. It differentiated him from everyone else; set him apart. From the start, it seemed his life would have excitement and grand destiny. Orphaned as a baby. A tragic beginning. But maybe just a tragic end that brought him to Tatooine. To dullness, drudgery, routine.

Luke didn't have a name for the desire yet. Pilot, maybe. It seemed as good a path an any. Basically, he just wanted to live in a place where it didn't take a week's worth of work to earn a glass of water. He wanted to drink it in a glass, from a tap, where the water ran freely and clearly, infinitely.

His uncle conferred with the little Jawas and Luke surveyed the prospects. The offerings were a little different than the usual band of broken-down, pieced-together parts. It _was_ turning out to be a good day. A protocol droid? But hell, Uncle was happy. It spoke Bocce.

But Uncle miscalculated on the red one. So did the Jawas, for it blew its motivator before Luke had even led it ten steps away. Uncle was pissed, which wasn't unusual. How he had overlooked the little R2 unit in the first place was surprising. The protocol droid pointed it out, said he'd ridden with it and that it was a good prospect, and Luke called out to his uncle about it.

The protocol droid was quite chatty, using one out of its six million forms of communication with Luke. It rambled a somewhat boring narrative, polite and self-serving, but seemed in good condition. So not scavenged. Stolen, more likely. And the other one, the little blue and white one that rolled behind them and spoke in beeps and whistles, was in surprisingly good shape, carbon scoring notwithstanding.

They were good purchases. Luke knew his uncle wouldn't look any further into the droids. He'd made a lawful transaction; it wasn't his problem if some business being got ripped off somewhere in port.

Luke heard Uncle ask whether or not they were escaped from Jabba's, and when he got ignorance from all parties involved in answer he sealed the deal.

Everyone knew it was not wise to mess in any affair Jabba the Hutt had a hand in. Bocce speaking or not, if that droid had somehow walked out of Jabba's palace there was no way in hell Uncle would buy it.

Predictably, his uncle ordered Luke to clean the droids up. Luke whined, but his heart wasn't in it. It was enough to have the morning off and shop with Jawas. And he could work inside, out of the suns. If these two were able to start work today then Luke's plan, which was to do as little as possible and then meet his friends, might actually come to fruition.

When the little blue holomessage popped out of R2D2 Luke knew he'd been whisked past the ordinary. It wasn't meant for him, but he received his own kind of message nonetheless. It was like smelling the air on a breeze. He stared at the projection on his floor, hardly breathing. Somehow he knew he was on a precipice. Things were in motion; something was coming. He didn't know if he should cling on for dear life, or jump, or if he would be pushed.

A woman had recorded the holo. Her message was desperate, her appearance elegant. In speech she was poised but in manner she was alarmingly furtive.

"She's beautiful," was all he could murmur.

The appearance of this message was a freak event; it had to be. Any more so than if his aunt sprouted green tentacles at breakfast from her head.

Obviously he didn't have the whole message. Several thoughts jostled their way into the forefront of his mind while he watched the loop of the segment over and over.

First, he was aware of being a little ticked off at the droid for hiding it from him and resisting attempts to get the rest.

Second, what did this mean? This was Tatooine, planet of sand and scorching suns. Nothing ever happened here. And he was just Luke, a disgruntled youth with an active imagination. Why, of all places and times, had this message reached Luke? The sender's failure made him feel sad, somehow. Such effort, and wasted. What could he do about it? It would only serve to torment him, fill his mind with stories and scenarios. How she happened to record it, what would happen to her.

Third, somehow she made him speechless. He watched as she repeated her plea for help. She was composed, eloquent. A wave of protectiveness overcame him, along with a strong feeling of helplessness. She had dropped into his life. He wanted to help her, but what could he do?

A life- someone else's life, while he lived his in the desert growing water, buying droids, and scheming to get together with his friends later- was in trouble. She was light years away from him, literally and figuratively. This was a new thought for him, the idea of life that didn't involve his.

 _You're my only hope._ Hands clasped politely, a quick furtive glance, she stowing something. In the droid?

There was life elsewhere. Busy, adventurous. Meaningful. Not his.

He puzzled over his reaction, why he was struck so dumb. She must be frightened, yet she seemed so strong. She was so beautiful. His heart reached for her. Was he dazzled? Was he in love? Was it her beauty? Was it some feminine allure he'd been heretofore unaffected by, because no woman on Tatooine he knew was like her?

He was nineteen. His experience with women - girls, really - was limited. One year he returned to school after season's break and greeted his classmate, a girl he'd known all his life, and she was…new. Eyes, hair, curves, allure. She scared him and she laughed at him. He was spellbound and confused. His uncle called it dazzled. _It's how they catch you,_ he'd warned. Luke's aunt wore a knowing smile, and Luke wondered if she'd dazzled Uncle once. It gave him pause. He'd never thought about his aunt and uncle that way before. Ah, but this had to be his uncle's sense of humor at work again.

Luke realized he hadn't known trouble. Not like the woman in the holo, anyway. His trouble meant getting yelled at by Uncle for not completing his chores. A raid by the Sand People was trouble, certainly. But one stayed out of trouble by being aware of it; taking steps to prevent it.

Had she run right into it? Would she get out of it? And she was so beautiful, so mysterious. So beyond him.

She stayed on his mind the rest of the day. Because of her and the new droids he dared mention his future. His uncle dashed his hopes for leaving the planet again. One more season. He said that every season. Luke got up from the meal table, disgusted with his uncle for hanging on to him, disgusted with himself for allowing himself to be hung onto, for not slamming his fist on the table and shouting "But she's in trouble! We have to do something!"

He went about, growing water, head in the clouds like always. Only today it was her. If he knew, if the message said more, he'd get her out of trouble. He'd run to her, say "I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you!"

That's all he wanted. He only wanted to see her safe. He didn't need her thanks, her love, though all that would be nice. Did he want that? Would she love him because he rescued her? Was his desire to rescue her because he loved her, or because he was lacking something in his own life?

The holo opened truth, he realized. He was the nephew of a moisture farmer, and he didn't want to be. Maybe it wasn't a freak event. Maybe it was fate.

 _Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi._ The message was obviously meant for someone else. Luke felt bad, powerless. He knew someone named Kenobi….

His uncle would say there was nothing they could do. He knew his uncle's arguments and Luke had many of his own. He didn't know her name, her location, the source of her trouble. He knew nothing. And so he would spend the day growing water, maintaining the performance of droids in the dry heat, and all he could do was hope that while she had hit a dead end by having her message go to him, and only in pieces, that somehow she had gotten out of her predicament. He hoped so, fervently. She was too fine, too noble for anything like trouble to take her down. Even if it was trouble she asked for.

Maybe. Maybe later. When he finished his chores and cleaning the droids. Maybe instead of meeting his friends he'd run out to the Judland Wastes and see Old Ben. It depended on what time he got through. If the day was late, one shouldn't be out in the open, vulnerable to the Sand People. One didn't invite trouble…

And then the damn droid ran away.

Luke cursed his bad luck. What kind of droid ran away? It was unheard of. Still, he was raised in caution and he waited until morning before setting out. But he didn't tell his uncle. He didn't want to be yelled at. It wasn't his fault the droid ran away, was it? True, he had removed the restraining bolt. But what droid would run away?

Hours later, Luke sat on the sand while Old Ben and the protocol droid, designated C-3PO, placed dead Jawas on the fire. He couldn't help. Not after seeing what he'd seen. Smoke billowing out of his home, his aunt and uncle….

He closed his eyes, the bitter bile of grief closing his throat. It all came down to the droids. And her. The holo.

His aunt. His uncle. These Jawas. She had brought her trouble to them all, to him. Everything that held him here was now gone. He was free, something he'd only dreamed of, and he felt terrible.

He hadn't been on the edge of a precipice. He'd been swept away in a flood of moving sand.

He wouldn't count another drop of water. He wouldn't even say goodbye to his friends. They'd never felt like friends, anyway, those that were here. They were people he grew up with, but with his head in the clouds he'd felt little connection. If he ever got off planet, he knew he wouldn't stay in touch with them.

He wasn't sad to leave the planet, but he was sad for everything that had left him. And now he was brand new. Like a newborn. Dependent. On her, to direct what path his life would take. And on Ben, to learn everything he would be.

He used to be Luke Skywalker, orphaned nephew of moisture farmers. Now his father had a name. Luke was a descendant of Skywalker and the Jedi; and Ben, Old Ben, that crazy old wizard, was the recipient of the message. Jedi General Kenobi would train Luke in the ways of the Force.

Ben would not attempt a rescue but they would bring the droids to Alderaan. "It may be too late for her, Luke," he told him gently. "If she was taken prisoner of the Empire before the droids landed on Tatooine then she may have already been executed."

Ben filled Luke in on who she was. He'd met her once, he told Luke, a sad and wistful look in his eyes, when she was just a baby. She had a name, Leia; and a title, Princess. Luke looked longingly at his R2 unit; hers, really.

He had been too late for his uncle and aunt. While he visited with Old Ben, while they had a lengthy conversation about the Clone Wars and the Force, his aunt and uncle were dying. The whole time he was gone was how long it took them to die. That's how Luke thought of it, as a murder that took hours to complete.

"I want to return the droids to her family, then," Luke decided. The quiet resolution in his voice revealed a maturity he hadn't ever shown to Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru. They always wanted him to grow up, and it took their deaths to make it happen. Uncle might find that funny, with his sardonic humor, but he was dead.

When they got to Alderaan they would meet with Leia's father, Viceroy Bail Organa, of whom Ben spoke highly and with respect.

"They should have them. I won't need them," Luke continued with a shrug. It felt inadequate, this expression of honor, but it was all he had. That, and his sorrow, his endless sorrow, but Viceroy Organa would have that too.

Luke assumed they would rent a ship and fly themselves. Ben was a Jedi and Luke was a good intraplanetary pilot; surely space travel couldn't be much different. But no. Ben wanted to hire a pilot with a ship.

The cantina felt like a betrayal. Luke was a life-long resident of Tatooine. He knew the desert and the native life like the back of his hand. He did not recognize his Tatooine in the cantina. He never would have guessed it existed, but there it was. Dark, seedy. He couldn't sense one good intention inside. He wanted to view the holo one more time; reconnect with the purity of her ideals, apologize for tainting them by bringing her droids on a smuggler's freighter.

No, the Princess would not approve of a man like him, the pilot they hired. This Han Solo preyed on misfortune while she tried to end it. He was cynical while she was honest.

Luke felt a nagging defensiveness when he stood himself next to the man. Solo was, in some ways, what Luke wanted to be. A pilot, and everything that went with the package. But more. Solo knew how he wanted to present himself, even if it was as an ass; knew exactly what to say and how to act while Luke felt so unformed, so unsure. There was an ease in the way Solo held himself, moved; a confidence that radiated out of him that came from doing and doing well.

In that he was like the Princess, Luke thought. He couldn't stand next to her either without feeling like some failed school boy. `

On board the _Millennium Falcon_ Luke floundered to find a place in between the wise, gentle Kenobi and jaded, harsh Solo. He had not yet been able to process what happened to his aunt and uncle, and he found little moments, like Solo's Wookiee partner setting plates on the lounge table for them to fix a bite to eat, threatening to engulf him in tears.

It was hard to leave his aunt and uncle behind. He included them in this new world, telling them about the beast that threw him in the cantina _I told you to stay away from those places,_ his uncle warned and introducing them to the new people in his life.

He told them Ben was becoming like they were to him. A parent. Someone who cared about him, looked after him. _Everyone needs that in their lives,_ he imagined his aunt graciously saying. _You're never too old for that._ His uncle would grumble. _What about the harvest?_

It was the holo's fault, he told them. In the droid. _I'd give those Jawas hell,_ Uncle advised.

Please don't blame her, he implored them. _People got to learn to keep their trouble to themselves._

Luke saw through his uncle. Luke was in trouble once, when he was just a baby. He had no recollection of it but his aunt and uncle had taken him in, agreed to raise him. And if Uncle saw her, Luke was pretty sure he'd be as affected by her as Luke had been. _Oh no, Beru. Look at him. The boy's been dazzled._

 _Leave him alone, Owen,_ his aunt would gently chide. _She seems a lovely girl. And Luke has chosen character over everything else; we've raised him well._

What about the smuggler, Luke winced to them. His character is pretty shady.

 _Now dear,_ Beru tried to find the good in him, _he did agree to fly you._

 _For ten thousand credits!_ his uncle roared. _It's his job. Stay away from him. Probably been sucked in by Jabba._

 _Influence flows both ways,_ Beru sagely noted. _Perhaps you will have an effect on him._

At this, Luke snorted. His aunt always had looked for the good in everyone. This Captain mainly ignored him. He didn't see how he would influence him. Not someone like him.

If there was some way to undo this. For his aunt and uncle to live. Luke's daydreams were desperate to change the outcome. Instead of in a droid, if his Princess brought her message of trouble to him, struggling in the sand...they would go to Kenobi together, he would solve all her problems, be a hero.

Or maybe she could have hired the smuggler and his Wookiee partner, and the pilot would swoop down on his homestead, shooting those Imperials, saving his aunt and uncle...

 _You need to stop, dear. It's done._

 _Get your head out of the clouds, boy. This isn't a holofilm._

This should be a defining moment, he told himself. He should discover what he was about, but instead he saw himself stuck inside a ship while it hurtled invisibly past light speed, so fast that nothing changed, barely even time.

He latched onto the holo, or the idea of it. He told her, the one in the holo, the one who had probably been killed as brutally as his aunt and uncle, that she had propelled him to his destiny. He didn't quite know what that was yet, but it involved Ben, and the Force, and the memory of his father, and he would join her. He would continue her life's mission to free the world of misery and the Empire. She had not died in vain. She had made a difference.

His grief hurt, physically, and he looked for distractions. The only sympathy Luke had gotten from Ben about his aunt and uncle had been a supportive grip of the shoulder when Luke first learned of it, and since then Ben would not allow Luke to sink into his grief. Ben began to train Luke in the Force, and his first lessons left Luke breathless and awed. He found himself calmed, soothed.

Solo was an unexpected distraction. In some ways this was a good thing. He had no clue what Luke had been through, and Luke wasn't about to enlighten him. Solo treated Luke with the same lack of consideration Luke gave himself, and it caused Luke to vow angrily _I matter_. If Solo paid attention to Luke it was to laugh at him, or swat his hand roughly away from the controls. Sometimes curiosity got the better of Solo and he would ignore Ben's rule of no questions. At those times Luke, as a fly on the wall, enjoyed the conversations that ensued between Solo and Ben. No mention was made of the Princess or her trouble, but Luke learned a lot anyway. He learned the Wookiee was hundreds of years old and also, like Ben, a veteran of the Clone Wars. He learned of the various substances Solo smuggled and how Imperial rule was a boon to free traders like himself.

Ben spoke of destiny but Luke got the feeling everything was fleeting. Captain Solo was a hired; chances were when they got to Alderaan he would never see the man again. It was another life he was made aware of; another life that had already done so much while he'd spent his own life in a routine. It was an uncomfortable thought, the idea of leaving this man behind, of never knowing how the rest of that life transpired. He'd left all his friends on Tatooine behind, but that was different. Symbolic of his loss. There was no loss associated with Solo. He was simply a person who would drift in and then out of his life, very much like the Princess in the holo.

Just yesterday he never thought anyone like the Princess or a man like the Captain could have found a place in his life, if just in his memory.

Luke didn't know what was going to happen to his life. But something had started. He might live a long time, quietly, happily. But he knew this was the start of a new life. He would remember with stark clarity the moment he had to put his old life aside, and he would remember just as clearly the ones who helped push him into the new one.

Maybe he would tell his children, descendants of Skywalker: " _there was this grizzled young Captain..."_ He smiled at the thought. _"And this beautiful Princess..."_

" _Did they meet?"_ the children at his feet would ask, spellbound.

Present-day Luke answered sadly. "I don't think so."


	2. This Princess of Yours

It had to be a bad dream. It had to be. The trip had grown rough as they came out of hyper. Luke grasped the back of the captain's chair to keep from falling as the freighter was bounced around. Luke had never been in space, but what he saw out the cockpit window was like a kind of weather, a nightmare of sandstorm. Hunks of rocks, all sizes, pelleting, floating, hurtling themselves at the ship. There was a desperation about their velocity and direction, a frantic movement, as if it was a new consciousness of existence. _Where am I,_ their panicked flight seemed to cry. _Why am I._

Luke recalled Ben feeling faint earlier. "A million voices suddenly cried out in terror. I feel something terrible has happened," he'd said. _These are the million voices,_ Luke's instincts told him.

He sought the presences of his aunt and uncle as he had done as a child, when there was something he didn't understand. In his nineteen years there had been two deaths of his classmates. One killed in a rock slide in the canyons, the other taken and killed by Tuskan Raiders. His uncle's explanation was always life was random and cruel and uncertain and you had to be ready for it. Beru's lesson was to find the beauty in life and enjoy it while you could. This was true of their own deaths, Luke thought. He looked out the window and felt a fear he'd never known in his life. Owen and Beru were a source of comfort, of sanity almost. Without them he would have giggled into hysteria long ago, would have collapsed in worry and fear.

"Our position is correct, except - no Alderaan." Captain Solo's gruffness belied his disbelief.

 _That's not even genocide,_ his aunt breathed.

The Princess' planet, Luke thought. It's gone, too.

"Destroyed," Ben said. "By the Empire."

 _That cannot be possible,_ Uncle Owen asserted. _How? Why?_

The Princess, Luke answered. They haven't killed her. They have, but not in the traditional sense. They took her home. Just like me. Only she is a princess, so every soul had to die for her to be alone. It just took you two in my case.

What will happen now, Luke wondered. He hadn't imagined anything like this and he wondered if Solo had either. It was to be a simple charter, a simple assignment. Go to Alderaan. Deliver the plans. Grieve for the Princess. Now what?

When the tractor beam hit and Ben convinced Solo hiding was the best option, Solo got busy. He rewrote logs, jammed frequencies, uploaded a false ID for his ship. "I should have charged you more," he hissed in complaint to Ben while they hid in the smuggling compartments.

Solo was in as deep as they were now. Once they were captured, if the plans were found in the R2 unit, along with the holomessage, it was a death sentence for them all.

"They'll board the ship, of course," Ben said. "We must prepare."

They took their positions, waited quietly. Even Luke's aunt and uncle remained tense.

Solo's voice called to the stormtroopers guarding the ship, with casual friendliness, as if from co-worker to co-worker. "Hey down there," he said. "Can you give us a hand with these?"

Solo handled the first shootings. Two quick bursts from his blaster, and it was done.

Ben clapped a hand to Luke's shoulder. "It had to be done. We will walk among the enemy dressed like them."

Solo had to help Luke to assemble the pieces of a stormtrooper's uniform over his body.

"You're a little short for it," he told Luke.

 _Strut, like him,_ Owen advised. _Good thing they can't see you gawking under that helmet._

Luke admitted to gawking. The base was enormous. Polished, ordered, unlike anything he had ever seen.

 _Now what?_ he kept thinking. They passed innumerable officers and troopers. Ben in worn Jedi garb, a gigantic Wookiee, escorted by two imposters, two droids trailing behind. _Now what?_ They passed unchallenged.

R2 pulled up the schematics to the base once they found a place to get their bearings and their escape became more possible. At least they could see what needed doing, where it needed to be done.

"I must go alone," Ben said.

 _You stick with him, Luke,_ Owen urged.

 _Yes, he needs to watch out for you,_ Beru contributed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Solo prowl the room. "I want to go with you," he told Ben.

Ben's answer was a solemn glance, as if he wanted to share so much but hadn't the time. "Your destiny lies on a different path than mine," he said to appease Luke. "The Force will be with you. Always." Then he left.

Luke watched Ben's cloak flutter about his legs as he hurried down the corridor. When he disappeared from view he reluctantly closed the door.

The Wookiee warbled something uncomplimentary and Solo agreed with his partner. "You said it, Chewie. Where did you dig up that old fossil?" he said to Luke.

 _Now, you know I never had much to say about Kenobi,_ Uncle admitted, _but don't you let that smuggler talk about him that way._

 _It's not polite, Beru agreed._

"Ben is a great man," Luke angrily defended Ben to Chewbacca and Solo. He was gratified for his uncle's response. He'd always noticed Uncle seemed to dislike Ben, or resent him, when there really had been no reason for it, at least not to Luke's knowledge.

 _Oh, you know,_ Owen mumbled sheepishly. _Guess I'm suspicious of the Jedi. I didn't want him taking you away from us._

You knew he was a Jedi? Luke exclaimed.

 _Of course. Who do you think brought you to us?_

Luke had never known, never thought to ask. This piece of information felt ominous somehow. Luke recalled how wistful Ben had looked when he talked about the baby Princess. He'd just given Luke the same look. Two babies, the same sadness.

R2D2 started beeping excitedly, and even before C-3PO had offered a translation Luke knew what he was saying. The Princess! Not only was she alive, she was here! This was more than coincidence, he was sure of it. It was fate. If Ben needed to achieve their escape alone, then the only explanation for Luke's presence was to rescue the Princess.

"Princess?" Solo shook his head in befuddlement. "What Princess?"

C-3PO affected a concerned tone. "I'm afraid she's scheduled to be terminated."

"I'm not going anywhere," Solo declared, taking a seat and throwing his leg over the counter.

 _Look at him,_ Owen observed. _Sitting in the chair, as unmovable as a stubborn Bantha._

 _I think language means little to him,_ Beru noted. _Perhaps he's been with the Wookiee too long. He's done a complete turnaround. First he wanted to fight and shoot everything on sight, now he just wants to stay and wait for Ben. Convince him, Luke._

Luke recognized the need to involve Solo. It was his ship, after all, they'd be leaving on. And he wanted the man's confidence, the walk that said _I know where I'm going and I know what I'm doing._ Luke was certain he couldn't rescue the Princess on his own. Should he wait for Ben? Ben would approve of the rescue. From what Luke had learned of the Jedi in his first lessons, the Jedi were protectors, and if there was any being who needed protection now, it was the Princess.

Luke's body swelled under the uniform with a claustrophobia. He needed to act, and he needed to do it now. He considered Solo, brooding in the chair, and fought down the impulse to knock Solo out of it, and drag him kicking and screaming to the detention area.

Several things were wrong with that picture, though. Solo was bigger, taller. The stormtrooper uniform they wore as disguise was slippery, too. He'd overtake Luke easily. And from what Luke had seen of the Imperial base so far, it didn't seem that stormtroopers broke ranks. They always walked in impeccable columns, so the sight of two stormtroopers having a physical altercation would probably cause unwanted attention.

 _Just think if you actually pull this, off,_ Beru said excitedly.

 _You'll rescue a Princess,_ Owen said, with a note of dazzle in his voice that Luke did not miss. _Wonder what it'll be like to meet royalty?_

Luke tried to persuade Solo with words. "They're gonna execute her!" he said in urgent despair.

 _You'll be her hero,_ Beru said.

"Better her than me," Han said obstinately. Luke pressed his lips together. So words had failed. Solo was quite willing to let the Princess face the executioner.

 _She might grant you lands, or a title,_ Uncle imagined. _Maybe you'll be Prince Skywalker._

Now that would be something, Luke allowed. He was just like his aunt and uncle: hardworking, sweat-collared. Moisture farming didn't give you a day off and there was barely enough money to celebrate a birthday. The lifestyle of the privileged was something his imagination could barely comprehend; even more glamorous than Jabba the Hutt's. But his uncle had given him an idea. If the Princess' plight failed to move Solo, maybe Solo's own plight would.

"She's rich," Luke courted him.

"Rich?" The Corellian took the bait, like a kid with candy. Trying to hide his victory, Luke continued to entice the smuggler to help him with the rescue of his Princess.

It was a good plan, if Luke could say so himself. They were already disguised as stormtroopers. He felt certain they could easily infiltrate the detention area, especially with presenting the Wookiee as a prisoner.

"I'll get the Princess, you get the reward, we all get what we want," he said.

"You'll get the Princess, huh?" Solo wryly remarked, as if the sentence had a dual meaning. He stood, smiling the same sardonic smile as Luke's uncle.

Luke flushed, irritated with himself for being so transparent. But he saw he'd gained a mite of respect from Solo and decided from now on to call him Han. _He knows I knew how to play him._ It surprised Han, and it amused him, too.

In the elevator, flanking the Wookiee, Luke's pulse was pounding. He felt an unusual focus. He felt better, like he had come upon a solution. He would rescue her; not just for her, but for him, for his aunt and uncle.

 _I'm so proud of you, Luke,_ Beru gushed.

Owen's voice was gruff, and he wouldn't meet Luke's eyes, but he'd push him forward. _Make 'em pay._

"We're gonna have to be quick," Han muttered out of his stormtrooper helmet. "It's gonna be manned, and there'll be security cameras."

Chewbacca the Wookiee, woofed something but Luke had no idea what he was saying.

"It's going to attract attention," Han's muffled voice understated, but his voice was reassuring. Patient and instructive, as if he understood this was the moment Luke would cease to be a farm boy.

Luke nodded, grateful for the encouragement. Now that he had bought into Luke's plan, Han was all business.

"Stand like this," Han coached, and Luke imitated his posture, blaster up, ready to fire. "And speak only when you're spoken to."

Luke's mouth was open, about to ask how Han knew so much about Imperial procedure, when the door opened.

Luke had hunted womprats back home. It was sport. But this...he was scared, sick, nervous, sorry. He knew the personnel were only doing their job and he had to remind myself that the job is destroying planets and executing princesses. He didn't have to remind himself that he didn't want to die. He didn't want to be shot. So, with Han, he fired at the cameras and he fired at the personnel, and pretty soon the only noise was the communications beep on the console.

They had gotten this far. His adrenalin was surging.

"We gotta find out which cell this Princess of yours is in," Han said, clearing a slumped body off the communications board.

Luke forgave Han assuming leadership. At least Han understood the situation. Yes, he liked how he put it. It was Luke's plan, Luke's rescue, and Han had taken charge, but he did remember that the Princess was not his.

"Here it is, 2187. You go and get her," Han ordered Luke, definitely taking charge. "I'll hold them off here."

Luke hurried up the corridor. It was very hard to see properly in the helmet. Lights in the floor glared red and harshly white from the ceiling. There were quite a few cells lining each side of the corridor and the identifying label was hard to read. _2187, 2187,_ his aunt chanted, as if Luke was going to forget.

His mind whirled. He didn't know if it was due to the shootout, or just anticipation, but he was shaking. How were they going to make it out of here alive? He had no idea how Ben was going to accomplish his mission without going unnoticed, either. One moment Luke felt crazy, stupid, and the next he was empowered, justified. No matter how much the Wookiee yowled, they were doing the right thing. They would get the Princess, or they would die trying.

Han would probably take issue with that statement.

"Luke," Han's voice shouted, and Luke turned. That end of the cell block, where the command area was, had filled with white smoke and the noise of blaster fire. "We're going to have company!" Han informed in a yell. He didn't sound frightened, or desperate. He was just stating a fact. And underneath it was the message _hurry up._

 _Well_ , Luke's finger pushed the button to open cell 2187. _Now_ _my plan sucks_. He stepped inside.

His princess was asleep. Exhausted probably; possibly injured. She rested curled up, as if things had moved too fast for her as well. The cell space was very tiny.

For a long moment, Luke just stood, wondering about her condition, how they would escape, thinking still she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and how far he was out of his element.

 _I gotta say,_ Owen commented. _You sure know how to pick 'em._

But that was just it, Luke hadn't picked her. He'd had nothing to do with it. She had dropped into his life, and now he into hers. It was destiny. He wasn't sure how or in what way, but he knew he and the Princess were meant to be together.

The princess sensed someone had entered the cell and lifted her head. She regarded Luke as he regarded her.

Luke was aware of wanting to make a good impression. This was to be their fateful introduction, and he didn't want to spoil it.

A look crossed the Princess' face. One very similar to a look Han gave while Ben instructed Luke in his first lessons with the Force. It was full of an ironic humor. "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" she commented.

"Huh?" he stupidly answered.

 _Oh, you're out of your_ league, came Uncle's voice.

Just like his plan, his first exchange with the Princess was not going like he had imagined. He collected himself, removed the helmet, ignored his feelings of inadequacy, and boldly showed her how their fates collided. "I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you." A thrill coursed through him.

"You're who?" the Princess' voice was soft and wary, and Luke was struck by how young she was, how hollow and numb she seemed. She was so sad, sadder than he even, and if there ever was a being in the galaxy who needed love, and strength and friendship, it was this woman.

She straightened, swung her legs to the floor while Luke explained further. He told her about the R2 unit, and Ben Kenobi. She recognized the name, and in a flash was back to the person in the holomessage. Someone vital and energized. She raced out of the cell ahead of him, before he'd barely finished saying, "Come on!"

 _The short comment wasn't quite fair,_ Owen remarked as Luke hastened after her. _Look at her - she's barely past the smuggler's armpit!_

 _Oh, but she's impressive,_ Beru said, with a female pride.

Luke wasn't sure how he felt at the moment. _Three's a crowd_ drifted through his mind. But it was still his plan. It would be difficult, he mused. For now he had two strong-willed people to see his plan executed to their satisfaction.

Han was retreating towards them, he and Chewbacca firing off round after round of their rifles. Luke's hopes for a dashing rescue were disintegrating rapidly.

"Looks like you've managed to cut off our only escape route," the Princess snapped. Her voice was sharp, clear and cutting. Luke licked his lips, wanting to sink into the floor. Her disappointment was devastating.

But the Princess was directing her acid towards Han. Apparently she regarded Han as the leader and Luke as the errand boy.

"He's the brains, Sweetheart," Han snarled back at her, and Luke shot him a grateful look, thanking him for giving him the credit. On the other hand, as bad as this rescue had gone so far, he wasn't sure he wanted to be known as the brains of the group.

With a sudden movement, the Princess grabbed Luke's blaster and shot the wall behind Han. For just a moment Luke thought she intended to shoot Han, and apparently Han thought so too.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.

She called him a Flyboy before she disappeared, tossing Luke's rifle back into his hands and jumping into the hole she had created.

Luke, Chewbacca and Han remained in the corridor. Han was maintaining cover with blaster bolts, but Luke barely remembered to fire. He thought it safe to say they were each stunned. Had the Princess just rescued herself?

It's true they were cut off. It's true Luke's plan had run its course and he had nothing else to offer. But he wondered if her idea helped their situation at all.

Luke waited to see if maybe Han would be struck with inspiration. He was fighting with Chewbacca, who also seemed to want a better plan, and it was really hard to think with the red blaster bolts coming at them and the noise and the smoke.

Han seemed to think it was a good time to have a conversation.

"Wonderful girl," he growled at Luke.

Luke opened his mouth to retort, if anything to tell him they'd talk about this later, but a red bolt of energy headed towards Luke and jerked his head away, mouth clammed shut.

Han's only point was that he wasn't sure whether he liked her, and then he told Luke to follow her through the hole.

Luke did as he was told. At least he'd be alone with the Princess until Han arrived. Which probably wouldn't be long.

He landed with a splash, and got to his feet as quickly as he could. Water! He could drown in this stuff if he wasn't careful.

He looked around to see where he could get out of the water. It was deep, really deep, up almost as high as his knees. He started to panic. _Now, don't panic,_ came Owen's authoritative voice. The big Wookiee was at a wall, where a mysterious hatch was. He was alternately trying to wrench it open and banging on it. Luke wondered what the odds were a passerby would happen by and let them out.

The Princess was standing in the liquid muck, looking less certain. "Who is he?" she asked Luke, flicking her eyes toward the hole and sound of blaster fire.

Luke opened his mouth. Conflicting thoughts competed with his tongue. Should he tell her Han was an outlaw? Smuggler? Expecting a reward? Why was she interested anyway? "Ben hired him," was all he said.

He decided to see if that hatch could be shot open. The bolt ricocheted everywhere, and he, Chewbacca, and the Princess ducked. Luke almost wished he could swim so he could find safety below the surface, but neither the Princess nor Wookiee seemed to have the same idea, so he just protected his head.

With a yowl, Han tumbled down, and Luke hurriedly stumbled out of the way so he wouldn't land on him. Han was clearly unhappy, and raised his blaster.

"No- wait!" both he and Leia hollered. It felt good to be of the same mind, and Luke was feeling like calling her Leia.

Leia yelled at Han some more and Luke felt his feelings warm to her. Maybe he'd been a bit premature imagining love at first sight. Both were under a lot of pressure and stress right now. And it was his first time meeting a princess. Perhaps royalty treated all others as servants.

He had never been in water before. Never seen so much. At least, he hoped it was water. He shuddered to think about what else the liquid could be. How did the Princess know this was the garbage masher, anyway. Did her wardens give her a tour?

He shook his head, trying to help the others think of a way out. He tried to move closer to them, and the water was all a-swirl. Pieces of floating garbage got in his way and he was dizzy with all the sense of motion. Then a piece of garbage whisked by his foot with speed and purpose.

Luke swallowed. It was garbage, right? He looked at the others and was relieved to see them merely glaring at the garbage. But then he got that sensation again, like he was being caressed.

 _Luke, get out of there,_ Beru warned. _I don't like this one bit._

"There's something alive in here," he said with dark foreboding.

Typically, Han dismissed him.

When Luke disappeared under the water, he felt very clear-headed. He still hoped it was water. It was swirling roughly, and he knew he was the cause of it. Something had him, wrapped around him and was zooming him all around the depths of the masher.

 _Use your blaster,_ Owen urged.

It was a good idea, but the water shorted the firing trigger. Han and Leia were calling for him. He could hear them, and was touched. Their voices seemed to come from a great distance, faint but clear. Han was even using his name. "Luke!" he heard.

Luke dared open his eyes and could see Han's white-gloved hand groping in the water for him. The white duroplast shone like blurry moonlight under the (hopefully) water. He stretched out a hand and tried a lesson Ben had taught him. _Force_ , he chanted, _bring me to Han._ Nothing happened. _Han,_ he tried a different approach. _Come to me._ Still nothing. Apparently Han was immovable in the Force, too.

Ah, the things water teaches you. Or dying in water. Luke was zoomed around some more and, amazingly, his head broke through the water. He had a feeling the creature threw him up in the air, like he was playing catch. He knew he only had a moment.

"Grab him!" the Princess demanded.

He took a heaving breath, and Han latched his elbow around his own.

Luke's heart was warmed by their actions. There seemed to be some real concern. But the creature still had him and wanted to play.

"Shoot it!" Luke cried. He whacked at the creature's body with his own useless blaster, trying to force it to let go of him.

"Where?" Han demanded to know.

 _Seriously?_ Owen wondered. _The man who bragged of outrunning, outshooting now can't do either? Seriously_?

"Anywhere!" Luke choked.

But the creature had him again, and he splashed back ungracefully under the water, zooming around. He could still hear Han and the Princess calling for him; sometimes caught a glimpse of Han's hand reaching down blindly, but their calls became more infrequent and then they stopped altogether.

 _The Princess is going to be alone with him_ , Luke thought sadly. _They'll finish this adventure together, without me. At least they'll die nobly. Not like me, drowned in garbage._

And then he was released. Han helped him stand, slapping him uselessly on the back.

"What happened?" the Princess insisted on knowing.

The walls groaned. Luke was wary, looking at the muck in case the creature returned, feeling an eerie apprehension as something metallic clunked. The Princess was another one who wanted to have a conversation no matter how bad the timing. But he wanted to be polite. She was royalty, after all.

"I don't know," he coughed.

The room started shrinking as the walls moved toward each other. Han and the Princess were close to each other, and it was Han who played Rescuing Knight, grabbing her about the waist and flinging her atop a higher pile of trash. Luke, doing his best to not panic and watching Han get mad when the Princess slid off the mountain of trash the wall created for her, finally remembered his comlink and the droids.

He wanted to call out to Han to be careful with the Princess. To place her, firmly and carefully, atop the garbage; not grab her around the waist and toss her.

When the droids successfully stopped the walls from crushing them by shutting the program down, Han and the Princess hugged. Luke tried to wade over there quickly, to get in on the celebration but it was the furry Wookiee who grabbed him and tossed him out of the masher.

The poor Princess had no clothes to change into, but Luke and Han took a moment to take off their disguises. They were not as useful all dirty and reeking of garbage.

"I'm keeping the belt," Han announced, and strapped the utility belt around his waist.

Luke followed suit.

Leia appointed herself Princess of the Rescue Effort. "From now on, you'll do as I tell you," she told Han, who sputtered after her.

"No reward is worth this," he said in wonder, more to himself than Luke, and Luke saw it. There was that slight upward turn of one corner of the mouth, the gleam in the eyes.

Earlier, he was still wrestling with how he thought of her. _Either I'm gonna kill her myself or I'm beginning to like her._ Han Solo had decided. She had won his respect and burgeoning admiration. If Luke hadn't won Han's earlier, he might feel a little jealous. But he didn't. He wasn't sure where he stood with the Princess, whether he was knight or servant, and possibly she wasn't sure either. More likely, she wasn't aware she was supposed to be thinking about it.

But she was Leia to him and really that's all she needed to be. Just as Han was now Han. And the Wookiee was...well, Luke wasn't sure he was allowed to call him Chewie yet. Chewbacca would do until he read Wookiee body language better.

They were a little band, a quartet. They were no longer strangers. Somehow Luke knew they'd get off this Death Star. Four was so much stronger than one.

They turned a corner and ran smack dab into a group of stormtroopers. Everyone on both sides froze in surprise. Han recovered first, closing his gaping mouth and bringing his weapon to fire. He chased after the stormtroopers, and his Wookiee partner followed worriedly behind.

They were now down to two. Luke glanced at Leia in concern. He was surprised to find her eyes glittering, her body turned as if she almost followed him, as if Luke was the only thing holding her back. Luke allowed a slight frown.

"He certainly has courage," Leia declared proudly.

Luke blinked, surprised. Had she chosen her Knight? "What good is it going to do if he gets himself killed?" he groused to her, and he touched her elbow, and they went off in a different direction.

The thought stayed with him as he ran. He thought of the story he'd started, the fairy tale he hoped to tell his descendants one day.

 _Eww,_ they would moan to Ancestor Luke. _Is this a love story? Get back to the shooting!_

He would smile at them. _Ah, but it's better to be loved than shot._


	3. Still Moments in Flight

Luke did not sleep. Eleven hours had passed since their escape from the Death Star. Eleven hours on a ship with the smuggler and the Princess, the droids and the Wookiee. Without the Jedi.

It was the one thing he could do. He could deny himself an activity fundamentally of the living. He would not sleep. He was back on the _Falcon_ , the surroundings familiar in a comforting way, almost like being home. But he would not sleep, even as he found his head falling heavily to his chest, wakefully picking it up, surprised, angry at his body's betrayal.

His exhaustion, his half-dead state, was solidarity with Ben and Owen and Beru, with the dead.

They were fairly silent right now. Maybe they felt his mood and were giving him space. Or maybe he just didn't have the energy to raise their spirits.

At first it hadn't been hard to fight sleep. There was the adrenaline of the escape, manning a quad gun, getting his taste of a kill. It went a long way to making him feel better. That Tie pilot knew nothing of his aunt and uncle, had nothing to do with Ben; he was just a random victim of circumstance, much like the others. But his random death felt right, _I got him!_ like a chalk mark finally on Luke's side, a balancing of scales. The side of the winning? he wondered. _The side of vengeance,_ Ben cautioned. _Take care, Luke._

There would be no more lessons from Ben. Mostly Luke sat and thought about the three he'd lost recently, who they were and how they were. They way his aunt smiled good morning, the satisfied, hidden grin on Owen's face when the day's growth was good, how pleased Ben seemed when Luke blocked the remote's blast with his light saber.

But when he thought about what he lost, what it meant for him, Luke personally, he became so pissed. The lightsaber, hitched to his belt, was probably useless now. Fate had sent Luke to Ben, to the Princess, where he would learn where he came from and who he would be, and now he had nothing. Nothing. Not even moisture farming. What bad joke was Fate?

 _Get some damn sleep already,_ Uncle Owen groused. _You're not thinking straight._

He had helped Han with a few repairs. He had laundered his clothing, washed the garbage masher stench away, used the shower in the ship's 'fresher.

 _It's decadent,_ Owen said. It was a water shower. _Why the hells does the smuggler think he needs a water shower?_

 _It's luxurious_ , Beru said. _Try and enjoy it, Luke._

But he couldn't. His home on Tatooine had a sonic shower; dirt chipped off with sound waves. Had Owen and Beru ever stood under a stream of water, rinsing silky soap away? _I'm so sorry,_ he thought for the billionth time.

He didn't sleep but he was starving. He devoured six of the little processed meat sandwiches Chewbacca set out in one sitting. There were a couple dozen on the platter, and he'd probably eaten more than his share, but he couldn't help it. Han ate on the move, sauntering through the lounge from one repair job to the next, popping an entire sandwich in his mouth.

Princess Leia was still eating her first, hours later. Luke thought the bread must be quite stale now where her lips had moistened it.

The Princess was the same as him. Only instead of sleep she denied herself eating. She had also showered, and she was wearing her white robes again, now dingy and stained, but smelling clean at least.

She was still so much bigger than him. She'd comforted him about Ben, not aware he was grieving for himself then. And she had her own monumental loss. _How do you say you're sorry,_ Luke asked Beru. _When it's so huge like that._

 _Don't be sorry for the dead, dear. We are beyond caring. Be sorry for her._

But she would snap his head off, he feared, if he said he was sorry for her. She would not tolerate that. She didn't tolerate it in herself. She had tremendous resolve. Luke could see it, like it was a real, actual thing. If she started to let herself sink into grief and shock, Luke could almost count the seconds it would take before her shoulders would give a jerk, straighten. She would lift her chin, gaze about the ship's environs and find something else to focus on.

She usually targeted the questionable state of the ship and her captain. She'd used up her own adrenaline arguing with Han, about most everything. When she'd called him a Flyboy outside the garbage masher it had not been in insult. She had been able, in just an instant, to accurately assess his character. If she was a Reward then he was a Flyboy. In the quiet moments of their escape they made caricatures of each other. There was the Walking Carpet, Her Worshipfulness, Flyboy.

The tone on the ship had shifted into a more venomous one. Luke had caught the tail end of one conversation and she had caustically labeled Han a Mercenary, intending to hurt. But it was plain to Luke it was Han's actions that hurt her.

In the comfort of his surroundings Han retreated back into the cavalier rogue he needed to present himself as. Luke didn't understand it either. He was a stranger again, impenetrable, hard. Han acted like his involvement in their escape had not been for her, or for Luke, or even Ben, but completely for himself. Leia continually baited him, daring him to show himself, demanding to see that he continued to care. Han was not one to take orders, however, as he had told her earlier. At least he was honest about that, Luke thought.

Han turned contrary. When she insisted, he did the opposite. And so they fought. It distressed Luke a little, who felt caught in the middle. He intervened when he thought one or the other was being ridiculously stubborn. He told Han he agreed with Leia that she should be the one to contact the Rebel Alliance. But he took Han's side about running the medscan over Leia. If they were together they fought, and Luke got a headache. It got to the point, after Han called her a spoiled Princess, that she actually negated the reward, saying it would originate from Alderaan, which no longer existed, and therefore any reward also could not exist. She refused to allow he be paid from Alliance funds, which couldn't afford to award every greedy pilot that decided to play hero just for a payday.

She eyed a future, which Luke found remarkable. _It is not a future she desires,_ Ben corrected him. _It is revenge._

Ben and Owen began to argue, deepening Luke's headache, but at least stopping his lids from being so heavy.

 _What's wrong with revenge?_ Owen said. _It's also making sure nothing like this happens again._

 _If it is for her people, then it is for prosperity. If it's for herself, she is lost to hatred. You must be her friend, Luke._

 _Oh, I am,_ Luke assured his mentor. "You should eat something," he nudged Leia gently.

 _And you should sleep, Owen insisted again._

Leia's head moved, full of conflict and torment, and Luke understood. They were guilty of being alive. Not only that, they had tried very hard to stay alive, even amidst all that death. They were the same. Her lips moved though Luke couldn't hear what she said. Probably something about not being hungry.

She tried again. "I can't."

Luke thought he was fresher. The last time he slept was during the night cycle when he thought he was only going to Alderaan. She had been a prisoner. He doubted she had eaten since her capture. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked her. "How long were you a prisoner?"

She looked him in the eye, and he was amazed to see that ironic humor in her eyes again. "They didn't furnish my cell with a clock," she said.

 _She's so direct,_ Beru noted appreciatively. Luke smiled, because she wanted him to, though that kind of humor was hard to understand. Or join in on, if you lacked it in the first place. But he tried. "Major oversight on their part," he told her, and won a small grin.

"I'm guessing about three or four days," he told her, because she should know. She was a survivor; she should be proud. She should eat. "I don't know how long the droids were on their own once the escape pod landed. We bought them three days ago."

She nodded but made no comment. Luke picked up her napkin and held her sandwich out to her. She took it, but placed it on her lap. Luke bit on one of his own.

"We left from Tatooine," he told her after he had swallowed. "That's where I'm from."

She looked politely interested. "What did you do there?"

Luke laughed bitterly. "Thought of every way I could leave. My uncle had a moisture farm. It's a desert world."

She nodded. "Yes, I know of it."

"Ever been there?" he asked hopefully, and she shook her head.

"Well, if it weren't for you, I'd still be there, checking condensers."

"I'm sorry."

"No!" Luke said, shocked. "That's not what I meant at all. _And Uncle, that's not what I mean either. "_ I think, someday, I'm going to owe you everything. I just don't know what yet."

"I owe you everything," Leia said quietly. "You and him." She tossed her head, indicating the Captain somewhere on the ship still making repairs. "It's...I owe you everything, and yet I have nothing to give."

"And what you owe you never wanted in the first place."

"Exactly." Luke was pleased when she took a bite of her sandwich.

Han stopped at the table to grab a sandwich. His clothes were dirty from repairs but Luke remembered he had used the shower and autovalet too. Had he reworn the same clothes, as he and Leia did? It looked the same shirt, colored off-white with open collar, dark trousers with the Bloodstripe piping. He'd exchanged the utility belt for one that carried tools but still wore his blaster holstered to his side, as if he couldn't trust the seeming safety of hyperspace.

Luke couldn't remember what color the pants were that he wore on the Death Star. Had they been blue? The ones now were a deep navy. The Bloodstripe was red. It hadn't occurred to him before that it was a Bloodstripe award. Had Han earned it, he wondered? Or was it part of the smuggler mystique, a front. He considered the man standing before them, and decided he would be more surprised if they weren't real.

"I remembered something," Han told them. "I've been to Alderaan before." Luke saw Leia recoil a little. Han was an indelicate sort, not one to walk on eggshells around them. He more or less smashed eggs on top of their heads. _It has its own effect,_ Ben observed wryly. "Might be in my logs. I can pull it up for you if you want to see it."

Luke looked at Leia before he answered. He would like to see it, to be honest. A being was a product of their home planet. The way they talked, dressed. Luke wasn't sure what Han or Leia learned about him from Tatooine, other than Han had picked up on his farming occupation right off the bat, but he liked Leia's pale skin, the way she pronounced words, the way she wore her hair pinned in two buns over her ears.

"Perhaps another time, Captain," Leia answered dryly and graciously, like a Princess.

"Suit yourself," Han shrugged. He was Corellian, Luke remembered Ben telling him. Long and lean while the Princess was overall petite. Leisurely movements that could suddenly flare into a dangerous anger. A drawl of speech, tanned skin, like Luke's. Was it Corellia who gave the smuggler the underlying defensiveness and hostility?

"Han," Luke chided. "Maybe now's not the right time."

"Why not?" Han wondered out loud. "I've been thinking about it. Makes me want to see it again."

"What would be in the logs anyway?" Luke asked.

"Ports usually send a recording with a landing. About what the visitor can expect, highlights of places to visit. Language, currency. Certain laws, like weapons, illegal substances, stuff like that." Han regarded Leia, sucking in a cheek. Her eyes were bright.

"Did you visit as an outlaw?" she wanted to know.

Han grinned appreciatively. "Tried to. Alderaan was tough."

Luke noticed something come over Leia's face, a kind of pride.

"You know it, too," Han realized in delight. "Anyway, it's all I got."

Luke blinked, feeling jealous. He had nothing to offer the Princess of Alderaan. Would that work, he wondered? To collect little pieces from anyone and everyone who offered? Would it help to rebuild a planet?

 _The physical portion is gone,_ Ben said. _Memories and artifacts make a history; keep what has been extinguished alive._

Luke despaired. _What do I have of you three?_

 _Weren't you listening,_ Owen snapped _. Memories and artifacts._ Luke fingered the light saber hitched on his belt, laying over his thigh as he sat. He nodded, chastised.

Leia spoke like a Princess again. "I only hope no one else has to understand what it means to lose a planet."

"Everyone does, Sweetheart," Han said, unmoved by her proclamation. "I may not be Alderaanian. But I understand it as a pilot."

"That's not the same," she retorted.

"When we set course," Han began, speaking a little louder than necessary and gesturing at Luke and an empty seat in the lounge, _Ben,_ Luke realized, "I expected to come out in orbit. I expected to see, let me remember," Leia closed her eyes, "large planet, blue, and green and white and brown," Han continued. "And that spot, right? That storm."

"The Great Wind," Leia whispered. Luke opened his mouth, about to ask, _what's that? b_ ut they seemed to have forgotten he was in the room.

"The Great Wind," Han repeated. "And instead, we come out of hyperspace, and we're hit with..." he shook his head, at a loss to describe it properly, "...with meteroids. Rocks. Earth. _Earth,_ Princess. And nothing else is there. It's empty."

"It's not the same," Leia said again. "Not like feeling the sunshine, or the view after climb-"

"-no, I already said, I'm no Alderaanian. I've felt a lot of suns, though. But I'm a spacer. I don't know mountains and suns. I know planets. I know approaches and gravity wells and landings. I'm not saying what spacers lost is the same as yours. But everyone lost, whether you lived there or saw it from space."

"I'd like to see it," Luke said shyly. "I'd like to see where you come from, Leia. But if you think it's too fresh right now..."

"It's here," Han had taken a seat at the engineering station. "Let me find it." He concentrated on the logs, finger absently rubbing a scar over his chin. "There," he finally said, leaving them to it. "I have to get back to the those shields."

Leia stood behind the seat, her hand gripping it tightly, while Luke lowered himself into it. "I'm not going to cry, if that's what he wants me to do" Leia said firmly, just as contrary as Han. "It's nice to know there are things that can be salvaged, saved from the wreckage as it were. I'm going to see if I can watch it, but I am not going to cry. I can't. If I do.."

"It's okay, Leia. I understand. I can barely think about my aunt and uncle without feeling like I can't stand up."

She didn't cry. She stooped behind Luke's shoulder, drawn in, ready to flee, like a feral animal offered kindness, untrusting.

"Oh, him," she breathed. A man had appeared, uncomfortable and self-conscious in front of the recorder, and he outlined the mandatory sentences for carrying a weapon or selling illegal substances. "This was when he was Secretary of Commerce. I can't remember his first name. He's one of my father's closest colleagues." Luke noticed she used the present tense. "Rieekan. I can't remember his first name. Why can't I remember?"

Luke glanced behind him, concerned. Her eyes were fixated on the screen, looming and sightless. She was no longer watching or listening. "I'm sure it'll come to you," he said casually, to bring her back. "Things come to me in the middle of sleep."

"No, I should remember. Secretary of Security now. Well - He's, he's, gods, I can picture him. He had dinner with us often." She lifted her finger at the man's image. _She's fate itself,_ Luke thought. To find him, name him, pull him from the dead. She continued to jab her finger, speaking in a rush. "He had a son, older than me, he had blond hair, and he never gave me the time of day, I think because I was the Princess, my father and he used to smoke cigars to - Carlist," she declared triumphantly. She let out a shaky breath. "Carlist Rieekan. There. I did it."

Luke watched her straighten, and started counting. Before two heartbeats, she twitched her head and shoulders, the resolve back in her spine, the irony back in her eyes. "I never liked the smell of the cigars."

When they went back to the table she ate two of the sandwiches.

Luke thought maybe Han was onto something, giving her pieces, forcing her to confront. The medscan, hailing the base, the logs, the reward even, that he sacrificed. The more she received the more she confronted and the higher she rose out from her shock.

 _Shock freezes,_ Ben noted.

 _She should cry,_ Beru said. _If only for herself._

Leia broke into his thoughts. "What were you saying about your aunt and uncle?"

He told her about Tatooine, about himself. About Owen and Beru. He couldn't help his voice catching, eyes moistening. He did his best to hide that fact he was so close to crying in front of this woman of steel, when she grabbed his arm.

"Luke," she said in a hush. He brought his face to hers, and was surprised to see tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"How can you... Why do you cry for them?" he asked her. "You didn't even know them."

"I know," she gave a watery laugh. "But I feel you. Your sadness. Your pain. Guilt, all of it. It's mine now, too. I think that's what Alderaan did for me. I've become this….bottomless receptacle...to, to take others' sadness in my own."

"What about you, though?" Luke asked. "We want to take yours, too."

"When the Death Star is destroyed," she vowed.

 _That's a Princess for you,_ Beru said. _It must have been a difficult upbringing._

 _What do you mean,_ Luke asked her. _She lived in a palace! She had wealth, all the comforts._

 _No sense of self,_ Beru said. _I wouldn't wish that life on you._

Luke imagined all the travel she had done, her private fleet of yachts even, pilot. _I'd fly myself. I wouldn't use a pilot,_ Luke told himself. _She's rich,_ he'd told Han, and he meant it.

 _You never lacked comforts,_ Uncle told him.

 _It's a trade-off,_ Beru continued. _All the trappings can't fill a soul._

 _Hmm,_ Luke considered. Owen was right, though. He had never lacked for anything. Been disgruntled, sure, but that was fickle youth, wasn't it? He didn't feel so disgruntled anymore. Now he was nostalgic. His soul grown old.

 _All the trappings can't fill a soul._ What would fill hers, then? And Han's, who wanted too. _I can imagine quite a bit,_ he'd said of a reward. He had half a mind to warn the smuggler. _My aunt says greed is empty,_ but knew he'd be met with derision.

Beru and Owen fell silent while Luke sat shoulder to shoulder at the little table with Leia. She had another partially eaten sandwich on a napkin in front of her and Luke ate three more. Leia's head was lowered; not to her chest but not to her lap, either. She merely stared, looking at something not there; something no longer real.

Their ears took in the conversation between Han and Chewbacca, one-sided because they couldn't understand the Wookiee.

"You want to appear in front of a bunch of Destroyers without shields?" Han had said at one point.

Chewbacca rumbled something in answer.

"Of course she's right. They had a scan crew remember?"

Luke listened to Chewbacca's answer, trying to identify individual syllables.

"We didn't have time to make a sweep, Chewie." Han sounded irritated.

The Wookiee's next exchange sounded very much to Luke like he was teasing.

"'Cause she already thinks she knows everything."

Luke used just his eyes to sneak a glance at Leia. A corner of her mouth was up in the slightest, indicating she heard and understood. He angled his head slightly so his eyes were on her full. "Think that's the only apology you'll get?"

She allowed her smile to grow. "I knew he couldn't be that stupid to think we weren't being tracked." Her gaze lifted, shifted microns higher, to the table, to the sandwich set before her. Gracefully she pinched it with her middle finger and thumb while Luke watched in fascination, this war between the living and the dead. It was another moment before she thoughtfully raised it to her mouth. She only took a nibble, and just as gracefully, with a slow, careful movement, those fingers holding the sandwich applying the smallest pressure of grip, her other fingers lifted, poised, replaced the sandwich. _Like a dancer,_ Luke thought. She put the sandwich back on the napkin. She hardly seemed to need to chew, the bite was so small.

"Are they going to be there when we arrive?" Luke asked, watching her sandwich and thinking he was still hungry.

"Not right away. They can't track while we're in hyper, but they'll have the coordinates where we come out. They'll come."

"At least I believe him about the ship being fast. Do you?"

Leia nodded. "Yes. And even if he had standard drive, the Death Star certainly can't move as fast. The mass is so much bigger. We'll buy some time because of the difference in speeds."

They grew quiet again, and Luke felt exhaustion try and grab him. His senses felt dull. His hands were heavy in his lap, his eyes focused on the little sandwich and his ears heard the clanking of tools, the growls of the Wookiee, Han's smooth answers, like from a fog.

He pictured the Death Star, Ben left behind, waiting and watching for them, coming for them. Ignoring Ben, not considering him at all, his accomplishment, his achievement. Darth Vader stepping on his cloak. Stepping! Luke's heavy hands became fists. _Ben._

 _You left me,_ he told his mentor in sudden realization. _You didn't even try._

 _Oh, certainly I tried,_ Ben's voice, cheerfully grave, answered. _And I succeeded._

 _You're away,_ Beru joined in.

"I want to fight," Luke said softly to Leia. "You'll defend the base?"

"There's no defense against the Death Star," Leia said, exhaustion plain in her voice as well. "But we'll attack it. We'll analyze the plans, and hopefully be able to destroy it."

They hadn't heard his approach, lost in their own quiet dialog, heads together, but Han stood before them again. He popped a sandwich in his mouth, and chewed, regarding them curiously. He hadn't eaten as many as Luke. Maybe five. There were still two left on the plate. Leia's share? Luke wondered. He considered asking her if he could eat them. She didn't seem to be making much headway on them. Luke had lost count of how many he'd eaten. Han might still be hungry. He hadn't slept either, eaten maybe half of what Luke had. He was rumpled, dirty, but clear-eyed and focused.

"You two look half dead on your feet," Han commented conversationally. "You should go on back. Get some sleep. We've still got eighteen hours travel time."

"Would you like to see them?" Leia asked Luke, ignoring Han.

"See what?" Han said.

"The plans," she answered, raising her head to meet his eyes.

Luke sat up, shaking his head from sleepiness. "I would," he said.

"R2," Leia directed. "Open File Organa."

"Not very hard to crack that, Princess," Han commented.

"I had to make it easy. In case I didn't make it back but the R2 unit did."

The lighting of the room changed as the technical readouts to the Death Star hovered in the air before them, the large holo shading Han's face. He was looking at Leia steadily, a troubled expression on his face.

Luke gasped at the complexity of the battle station. "I have no idea what I'm looking at," he confessed.

"You were willing to die for this?" Han asked Leia.

"We're looking for a design weakness," she told Luke, and turned to Han. "Yes," she said frankly, meeting his eyes.

"I see the hangar," Luke said, pointing his finger in the air.

"You might very well have died for nothing," Han said, his eyes now looking at the blueprints.

"And then we went this way?" Luke asked Han, who nodded at him distractedly.

"You think I don't know that?" Leia scorned Han. "I had to try. You think my life is any more important than anyone who was on Alderaan?"

"Look, here's the detention cells," Luke exclaimed, excited now he was recognizing something. "And behind that I guess is the garbage masher?"

Han shook his head. "Not anymore important; just wasted. Useless sacrifice."

Chewbacca interjected something.

"Shut up, Chewie," Han said.

"What did he say?" Luke asked.

"I will happily provide a translation for you, Master Luke," C-3PO said. "Shyriiwook is -"

"You shut up, too," Han said to the droid.

"It destroyed a planet, Captain. A planet." Leia's eyes were on the holo, searching in desperation.

"Fine, I get that -"

"Somehow I don't think you do."

"We've been over this before," Luke said resignedly. It was fine if it got Leia to eat but when it was a reheated argument…Luke sighed.

Han took a seat next to Leia, who scooted closer to Luke at the intrusion. He stretched his long legs out and leaned back in comfort, hands clasped over his belly. "What if it can't be destroyed? And you can't be so naive as to think these are the only plans out there. The Empire can just build a new one."

"We'll destroy it and then we'll destroy the Empire," Leia said firmly. "And then there will be no more Death Stars."

Han looked more closely at the readouts. "The technology is out there, Sweetheart. Say you succeed. Whose to say your new government won't build one?" He lifted an arm to gesture across the holo. "Those trenches are armed," he said, changing the subject. Luke felt Han wasn't being deliberately contrary; just vocalizing thoughts as they came to him. "Fighters aren't even going to scratch it."

"There has to be a weakness," Leia repeated to herself in a whisper, as if it was something she had said to herself over and over again.

"You know," Han remarked, rising. "There's a certain beauty to it. It's chilling, but it's an amazing piece of engineering."

"The being who thought of such a weapon is guilty of manslaughter," Leia said bitterly. "And everyone who helped to build it."

Luke slid out of the seat, feeling suddenly cool not having Leia's warmth at his side. "Han," he called conspiratorially, following him to the opened wall panel.

The older man turned. "What?"

Luke struggled to make sense, to have an articulate understanding in himself of what he wanted. Leia thought of the weapon in terms of galactic life and prosperity; Han admired its technological innovation but was awed into humility by its bestial nature. Luke just wanted to make sure it didn't function. "I want to...I'm going to fight. I'm going into battle."

He saw Han's eyes cloud and wasn't sure if Han was sorry for him, scared, or disappointed. But he made no answer.

"But," Luke continued. "I don't know terminologies. Formations. Things like that."

"You know how to battle, at least," Han ascertained.

Luke nodded his thanks. He'd work on the gravity of the compliment later. "I don't want to fly into anyone, you know? Or cause friendly fire."

Han grinned in sad understanding. He regarded Luke a long moment, his eyes unusually serious. "They'll assign you as Wing Man."

"What do I need to know?"

"Only that you stick to your partner. Protect each other. Fly where and when he does. That's pretty much all you need to know for something like this."

"What if…what if my leader is picked off? Do I find another? Or just fly around on my own inflicting what damage I can?"

Han rubbed the back of his neck. "You're too green, kid. You-" He swallowed whatever he was going to say. "Stay teamed up. But I reckon, as armed as that thing is, it'll be chaos. You Rebs will be all over the place." His face brightened in that sardonic humor Luke recognized so easily from having lived with Uncle. "Actually, green is the best way to go in. Won't get patched into routine, the way battles are normally fought. This ain't no normal battle."

"How do you -" It was the second time Luke wanted to learn how Han wore the weariness of knowing. It was different than Ben's, which was kind of a wisdom, an understanding. Han's was much more lived. Like things were torn from him, injected into him.

"If this was a few years earlier, you'd be going against me," Han said quietly.

Luke nodded as Han turned and left, precluding any further discussion. Luke had nothing to say anyway. He watched Han's retreating back, thought to himself, and _we'd do our best to kill each other._

Back at the gaming table, to the sandwich which remained in the same state of being uneaten, to the silently staring Princess. Luke nestled in and found her reassuring warmth. It was a fire, really, her being. The desire for victory, vengeance, tempered by utter despair. He was in the middle, caught between the beautiful, idealistic Princess who stood on the side of Right and the cynical Smuggler who stood on Wrong. Why, though, Luke wondered. What happened that put him there? They'd be enemies, he realized. _Ben_ , he called.

 _Yes,_ Ben responded.

Luke waited. Ben never said much.

 _That's why they fight so much_ , Uncle Owen observed.

 _I think they like each other_ , Beru said.

 _He won't stay_ , Owen said.

Luke's head fell to his chest and he snapped it up. "R2," he directed, wondering if the droid would obey him now that Ben was dead and Leia was next to him. "Close File Organa."

R2 responded, and the blueprints were safely inside again. Looking at the droid, Luke reflected, _you'd never know. Sitting here, so tired. You'd never know a huge battle station is tearing its way through space, through planets, and you'd never know something so innocent has the ability to destroy it._

"Did you see anything?" Luke asked Leia, who was gazing at the air where the holo had appeared.

She shook her head slightly. "A lot of straight lines. I'm not an engineer though. It might be obvious, but not to me," she sighed.

"Whose are they now, do you reckon," Luke mused. "The droids. I guess they're yours. My uncle bought stolen property. He was trying not to. He's – was – pretty careful about that." _Damn straight I was._ Exhaustion suddenly swept over him. He thought if if allowed it he might collapse in a sleeping heap here at the table. "Leia, I think he's right. I am going to grab some shut eye. You should, too, you know?"

"You can have the droids," she answered softly. "They belonged to my family. But I don't -" she pressed her lips together.

"Leia, come on," Luke gently urged. "I know you don't want to cry." He looked around, wondering if Han were nearby he could give a secret signal to and get him to argue about something. It took a special someone to do that, Luke realized. There was no way in hell he could provoke Leia right now. He'd much rather gather her in a tight hug of comfort. "You've held it this long. I think you should, but you don't want to, and I respect that. Come back with me. Not to," he turned scarlet, suddenly so embarrassed that it shook Leia from her thoughts and had her laugh weakly. "You know. Just sleep. There's that cabin with the two bunks. I think if I went back alone I wouldn't sleep. I need the noise of someone else's breathing or something."

Reluctantly, as if the weight of her past and the uncertainty of her future caused resistance, Leia followed Luke back to the crew quarters.

As they settled in the bunks Luke thought he shouldn't feel this comfortable on the ship, but he did. He liked the way the mattress felt under him, the smell of the ship, the steady noise of the engines. Even the two beings who flew her and worked so hard to keep her in good condition. The fierce Wookiee who treated them so carefully and the dark haired captain that couldn't admit when he was wrong.

"What's his name?" Leia broke into his thoughts. Apparently she'd been following a similar path of thought.

It was the same question she asked in the garbage masher, phrased differently, Luke thought. _Who is he?_ All these hours though, all those fights, and she still didn't know his name. She called him Captain. "Han. Han Solo."

"He can be a jerk," Leia said.

Luke laughed. "Sometimes. I've decided my aunt would like him." He paused a moment, wondering if he should go on. He was sleepy, and comfortable; not just in the bunk but with Leia. _We're the same,_ he realized. _Alone, with nothing. On a trip. Without a suitcase. Going to fight a war._ "Do you know what's helped me?" He turned his head toward her bunk. She was lying on her side, facing him. Her eyes were open and her hands gathered under her cheek. "I think of my aunt and uncle with me. Or I tell them about all that's happened. And I get their reactions. You know, because I knew them so well. And I could tell what they would think."

"What do they think?"

"My uncle would still be wary of Han. He was a very honest man." _Damn straight._ "But he'd have to admit Han knows the back end of a spanner." _Grudgingly_.

Leia made a soft huffing noise.

"That's an expression we used on Tatooine," Luke explained. "My aunt was won over when he had us shower and launder before anything else."

"We smelled. And he wouldn't want his precious ship soiled," Leia argued, just to argue, but her voice lacked energy. She was sleepy, too.

"And he fed us." _He did show concern,_ Beru put in. _For a single man who's also a criminal, he's been very hospitabl_ e.

"What color are his eyes?" Leia asked.

"Han's?" The question took him by surprise. "Brown?" Luke guessed.

 _Hazel,_ Beru interjected. _He's a handsome man._

 _I don't care, Beru,_ Luke shot at her, uncomfortable that his aunt should comment on another man's looks.

"Not like mine." Leia tilted her face at Luke so he could see her eyes from their places on the bunks across the room from each other. "Mine are brown."

"I see that," Luke said with a smile. She had lovely eyes. Large and rich.

"Unless that's brown to you? Mixed with the green?"

"I guess," Luke shrugged.

"In the garbage masher I could have sworn his eyes were dark. Almost black. But jut now they were kind of dark green."

"Mine are blue," Luke said.

"Very pale blue," Leia said in agreement. "I think I might fall asleep. Seems so weird. I shouldn't, but I can't stop."

"I know, me too. We aren't much good right now, though. To anyone. Sleep and we'll see things clearer."

"Yes," Leia sighed. "The base has training sims, you know. There'll be time to put you in a battle model."

"Han helped me too," Luke told her. "That's another way Aunt Beru likes Han. She thinks he's being brotherly. She's scared I'll get killed."

"She doesn't want for you what happened to her," Leia said wisely. "I'm scared you'll be killed. But this needs to happen. So I'm not going to ask you to stay away."

"I wouldn't listen," Luke said. "I've seen people die. I figure I can do it, too. I'm not afraid."

Leia nestled her face deeper into the pillow and closed her eyes. She smiled softly. "I've never heard that kind of reasoning before. I like it. I feel the same way."

"What would your father say? If you were to, you know, talk to him, like I do my aunt and uncle? To help you deal with all this."

Leia buried her entire face and Luke scolded himself for making her cry again. "He'd want to know if the mission was a success," she said haltingly, heartbroken.

He wanted to get out of bed and hug her, but sleep had him and wouldn't let go. His uncle had only mentioned the harvest once. _Yes. We've moved way past that._

 _The poor dear,_ Beru said. _There are important moments in Life, and then there's Life. A father should know when to differentiate them._

 _He'll know soon enough_ , Ben said calmly.

 _It's she that needs to know,_ Beru said.

And we'll know soon enough, Luke answered. In his mind's eye he could see Ben nod approvingly.

"Talk about something else, Luke," Leia entreated.

"Okay, sorry." Luke searched for a topic. "I bet Han stays."

"Ha," she scoffed. Apparently Luke had hit on the perfect subject, because her voice came clearer, sardonic. "I bet he won't."

"He might. He likes us."

"Us, maybe. Not the cause. He'll fly his money somewhere."

"I don't think he knows how," Luke said.

"To fly his money? Oh, he knows how to do that."

Luke grinned sleepily. "No, I mean, to get out of himself. To...I think he's been having to protect himself, stay wrapped up in him. It's his armor. And if he drops it, it makes him vulnerable. He thinks it might kill him if he's not wearing it."

"Too bad he can't see that'll be his downfall. And if we fail, the Empire will get to him someday."

"He was an Imperial pilot once. Did you know that?"

"No."

"So maybe the Empire got to him once already."

"Maybe. Maybe he'll surprise us," Leia murmured, half asleep.

"Mm."

Luke felt himself drawn deeper into the mattress, sinking into the oblivion of sleep. _I'll get through this_ , he wanted to tell Leia, and instead he was trying to remember the names of battle flight formations and dreamed of Han in a Tie Fighter, his Wing Man.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Carrie Fisher was so much more than Leia but Leia is all Carrie Fisher. I revamped this chapter a bit after we learned of her death. Like Luke keeping his aunt and uncle close, I tried to make her voice in my head clearer, or just pay tribute, as so many here have._


	4. Princess on a Moon, Smuggler in the Sky

Luke paused as he stepped outside base housing, and wondered which way to go.

Base One on the fourth moon of Yavin was completely different than the Death Star. That one had been built with a purpose in mind. It was sterile and clinical and efficient.

He'd been lost on that one, too.

Yavin's moon, larger than the Imperial installation, was anything but neat, Luke thought. It was so full of life, a rain forest that squawked and buzzed; dripped and crept.

He imitated his uncle at the start of every new day. Owen would throw open the door, and stand in the morning shine of the suns, his hands on his hips, and take a deep breath, swiveling his head slowly from left to right.

 _What were you thinking, when you did that?_ Luke asked his uncle.

 _That is was a fine day to work._

 _It was always the same, though. The weather never changed._

 _Then it was always a fine day to work._

 _What do you think now?_

 _That it's a fine day to die._

 _Owen, be quiet,_ Aunt Beru said.

The moon had a history of human occupation. Luke didn't know much about it, but he could see the remnants of life here. Obviously it had been charted and documented, but for some reason, after whoever was here left, no one had arrived to take their place for hundreds of years. Was human arrival, living here, the same as the life he felt in the rain forest? Was one more natural than the other, or was civilization something different entirely? He knew his attempts at philosophy were clumsy, and he hoped Ben would chime in with an answer. When he didn't, he thought to mention it to Leia later. If there would be a later.

Whoever was here before had built huge, vast structures out of stone. It was a mystery to Luke where the stone came from, because when he walked outside he felt the earth was soft beneath his feet, layers of decomposed leaves and wood building a fertile compost. There were six of the stone structures in use by the Rebel Alliance. These had been cleaned of vines but ferns still grew where the blocks of stone intersected.

 _Go right,_ Owen directed, and Luke heeded his advice.

Everywhere there was a hustle and bustle. Beings ran this way and that, giving Luke no clue which way the hangar bay was, and they all had an intense air of purpose about them, so that he felt silly stopping anyone to ask, "which way are the X-wings?"

He was now officially a pilot, enlisted in the Alliance by swearing an oath, wearing the orange flight uniform. Personnel had whisked him hurriedly all over the base after landing. He'd been taken into one structure and brought into a room, questioned. A debriefing, Leia had told him it was called. Then on to another building to fill out a file, receive an identification badge. There was a visit to the hangar, for assignment to an X-wing, an arena, now serving as an auditorium, to learn the battle plan. He'd been taken to the armory, and again to sims training. He was always escorted, sometimes driven around on a cart, and while his eyes were large and tried to take in all the sights, they had failed to provide his brain with any sense of layout. From the outside all the temples looked alike and Luke lost all sense of direction.

The air screamed with the piercing hum of engines warming up, dominating the rain forest, making it little else than a military base, despite the trees, despite the stone temples. The noise was so loud it offered no clue which way Luke should turn to find the hangar.

He had also lost track of Han and Leia. He missed being with them. Everything that had happened to him, from the moment he discovered the corpses of his aunt and uncle, had left him reeling, feeling so far out of his element and overwhelmed. It had been somehow comforting to have the self-assurance of Han and Leia at his side. He felt he could weather all kinds of things if they were there to experience it with him.

 _You want to hide behind them?_ Beru probed.

Luke thought about it. _Not really,_ he answered. _Just with them._ They gave him a moment to catch up, assess; let him know his reactions were on the right path. And they liked him, he thought, even though they knew how green he was. These other pilots were skeptical of him. They welcomed him and they weren't going to turn him away, but something in their demeanor indicated he hadn't yet earned the term pilot from them.

 _It's a club,_ Uncle Owen said. _They'll die members of an exclusive club. They want to see you pay your dues._

He wouldn't have been lost if he were with Leia. She had obviously been here before. She marched through the hangar after they landed, knowing exactly where to go, not even looking back to make sure he and Han were still trailing behind her.

She was disciplined, focused. She wouldn't talk about Alderaan and got visibly frustrated when they were separated for the debriefing. "We have no time to waste," she told them diplomatically, but they were questioned anyway.

They were going to detain Han. They thought Leia should have waited to arrive on base until Han and Chewbacca passed an extensive background check. They weren't too worried about Luke, which made him feel insignificant but Leia told him was bad practice. "You could be a well placed mole," she told him.

"But I'm not," he said naively, and she patted his arm.

Han apparently had a criminal record, and the generals and whoever enforced security for the base were worried that if they let him leave, he might sell information to the Empire.

"The Empire is on the way," Leia said with growing impatience. "He has nothing to sell." The Alliance was going to wait until the Empire was in view before they let him go.

They also decided that Luke, a nobody, had no business offering a reward. _Idiots,_ Uncle Owen swore. _Don't they know you two are the ones who got them to this point?_

Luke felt sorry for the person delegated to inform Han that his clearance was denied and that he would receive no payment. Chewbacca was irate, and for the first time Luke saw just how threatening a Wookiee could be.

"Idiots," Han spat. "You're facing annihilation, and you're worried about me?"

"If he were to enlist, like you," Leia had told him, "it would all go differently. But he's," she sought for an accurate description, "offended. He's holding it against them that they are suspicious of his background so he won't play."

"Can they do that? Ground Han?"

"As soon as the Death Star arrives they'll have no reason to hold him."

"The Alliance seems almost paranoid," Luke said.

"You have to understand," Leia told him, "that's how it started. Here and there, small groups, working independently of one another, in protest of the Empire. Their method was to undermine the Empire with sabotage and subterfuge. They had to be very careful who they let join, in case that being would turn coat. The rebellion didn't grow until those little groups decided to merge into one with the same goal in mind."

Luke nodded. His family had followed the rise of the Rebellion on Tatooine. He would not describe his aunt or uncle as politically active, but they were politically aware. He didn't know why they held such an interest in politics, seeing as the Empire's reach barely touched the Outer Rim, but they followed current events, and the dinner table was where Luke gained an understanding of lawful rights and freedoms. His uncle called Luke First Generation Imperial, and often explained to him the difference between the government he had known, the Old Republic, and the one Luke knew, the Empire.

The Empire was too powerful for any momentum to build. Rebel leaders were forced into hiding and could only stand by and watch as the Empire made secret arrests, enforced economic sanctions, and blockaded trade. _Alderaan,_ Luke realized as he walked. _The planet was punished._

His uncle's sense of direction hadn't misled; the largest of the temples vast opening yawned before him, thirty X-wings patiently waiting.

He wouldn't laugh at the size of the Rebel fleet compared to the Empire's resources, but it certainly was laughable. But the stakes were too high and this was no funny matter. Other systems who might support of the Rebel Alliance would not be able to offer assistance in time. They were waiting, watching the outcome of the battle carefully. If the Empire destroyed the Alliance over Yavin, that would most likely be the end of the Rebellion. If somehow the Alliance achieved victory, then outright galactic civil war would be waged.

Luke knew what he was up against. He was pretty sure he was going to die. The Death Star was not only huge, every square inch of its surface was armored and there was a symmetrical pattern of cannons and guns that encircled the entire sphere.

Luke sent his eyes to the far right, where the _Millennium Falcon_ was docked. He could see Han and Chewie, and mood brightening, went over to greet them.

They were stowing cargo. Luke frowned. He couldn't fathom what they could be taking with them, unless….

"You're leaving?" he accused, casting his eyes to Chewbacca in disbelief. He always thought Chewbacca, while partner, thought differently than Han, and had more influence. Obviously he was wrong.

On the Death Star Luke had been able to sway Han into doing something by having Han see it to his advantage. What could he say now that would get Han to fly with them? _Come on Han, come_ _end the Empire?_ No, too vague. _D_ _ie with us?_ Clearly he couldn't offer a reward, not even a Princess.

"Take care of yourself, Han," Luke said bitterly. "I guess that's what you're good at." He turned to leave.

 _I told you he wouldn't stay, Uncle boasted._

 _At first I thought you were right,_ Beru said, _but then I got hopeful he had changed._

 _Not a man like that._ His aunt and uncle weren't even talking to Luke anymore, just discussing Han among themselves. It was like they'd taken on a life of their own inside his head. Luke wondered if he was going crazy.

 _He's lived too long in the shadows,_ Uncle continued his assessment of Han's character. _Too used to taking and not giving._

"Hey, Luke," Han said. Luke read the irony in Han's eyes, mixed with a small bit of contriteness. If Han had called him 'kid', Luke would have set at him with his fists. "May the Force be with you," Han mumbled. Luke didn't give Han the satisfaction of a response. He continued through the hangar, deep in thought, and was surprised when Leia stopped him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

He told her he had seen Han. "How did he get money?" he asked. "I thought both you and the Alliance denied it."

She looked apologetic. "I got them to honor the fee General Kenobi contracted with him. I thought that was only fair. What I said earlier on the _Falcon..._ I was mad. I got him clearance to leave as well. They're letting him go."

Luke humphed silently. _She_ was letting him go.

"He's got to follow his own path," Leia told Luke when he admitted his disappointment Han was leaving. She was trying to take his mind off Han, trying to cheer him up, trying to ready him for battle. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, but it felt placating. He could tell his departure had been a bitter blow to her, as well.

Han was going to let Luke and Leia die. It didn't bother him. Everything they had been through, becoming the little band of four, meant nothing. Why had Solo worked so hard to make sure he or Leia wouldn't be killed on the Death Star, and then decide it was a fine idea now? Because Luke and Leia were willing, in Solo's book, to commit suicide?

This was a bad omen, Luke thought, like his death was now a certainty. If Han flew with them, then his death would only be a probability. Luke had been stupid to think Han was with them, part of them, theirs. Han had bluntly rejected them, and Luke would be a liar if he said he wasn't hurt.

He wasn't going to care, Luke had told himself, what happened to Han. It didn't matter. If Han didn't care about him, then why should he care about Han. No.

Han hadn't left because he was afraid. He called the battle against the Death Star suicide, but he wasn't running away from it because it frightened him. He just didn't want to die, like he was too lazy to make the effort. That was the only reason Luke could think of. He knew enough of Han to know the man wasn't a coward.

But oh, it nagged at him. Han had put himself in danger several times while working alongside Luke on the Death Star. That group of stormtroopers they encountered, for example. He'd put himself in danger and surely he must have known there was a chance he could be killed. Why was this different? Why wouldn't he put himself on the line now?

Gold Leader found Luke and shook his hand, welcoming him aboard, congratulating him on his enlistment.

 _Thanks for dying, he means,_ Owen said and Beru _tsked._

The tension, the anticipation, in the hangar was contagious. Fighter pilots didn't walk somewhere; they ran. They sang dirty limericks about Emperor Palpatine and chanted loud cheers celebrating the Rebellion. Right now they believed in themselves. They thought they actually stood a chance in hell.

Luke found his assigned X-wing and climbed the ladder, squeezing himself into the tiny cockpit. It wasn't at all like the _Falcon's_. He accepted the helmet from the tech and placed it over his head. The noise of the engines dulled to a loud groan.

He pushed thoughts of Han away as the X-wings lifted off, one by one. They flew slowly over the treetops. Luke had a new regret, that he hadn't explored this forest moon at all. It was astoundingly green, and tall. On Tatooine, the sky was huge, the desert a flat line of sand on the horizon. Here it was green of all shades and heights, the sky fighting for space in between tree trunks. There wasn't the noise of the hot wind here. It was bird calls and mammal screeches and hums and buzzes of things he couldn't see. And he could harvest water off his skin! Earlier he'd tasted his sweat, out of curiosity, and Han had laughed at him. Luke had crinkled his nose and given a review. "Not potable. Too salty."

They broke atmosphere and left the sky behind, and the X-wings looked like stars seen too close; gray-white, angles of metal jutting intersecting lines outward against the blackness of space. Luke twisted his neck to view the planet from space. It still looked green, with swirls of white- clouds, he saw, and gaping blue holes surrounded by more green. Water, he exhaled. A whole mass of water.

It would be worth dying today, Luke reflected. To have seen something like this. Beautiful.

 _This place is a wonder,_ Beru breathed.

It is, Luke agreed. _Have you ever been off planet? h_ e asked his aunt and uncle, sorry he was venturing questions like this now, when it was too late.

 _Once_ , Owen told him. _Your aunt and I married on Corsucant_.

 _Really?_ Luke asked, surprised. Coruscant, the Imperial capital, was so far from Tatooine.

 _Had to make it official,_ Owen said, with a touch of love, and pride and contentment in his voice. Luke swallowed. How had he not known all this? Was he really that self-involved, that selfish, that he never had bothered to learn that his aunt and uncle, natives of Tatooine, had once made an amazing journey light years away to begin their lives together?

He was sorry now for dismissing them, for treating them unfairly, when it had been their choice to return to Tatooine. Luke only dreamed of leaving and never going back, but it gave him no right to judge them.

 _I loved Tatooine_ , his uncle confessed to him. _I thought it was the most beautiful place in the galaxy._

Luke nodded. _I see now that you did_.

They rose higher and higher. Luke had a sense of being torn; of connecting to the life on the moon that he would never see again, but also anticipating the excitement of battle and impending death. He felt very alive. He was very aware of his body functions. The sheen of sweat on his forehead, the anxious thump of his heart, the clarity of his vision. It was odd to think in a few hours he would be space dust.

It was sobering to think this would be his last. Last everything. Breath, thought, hope, sight. He would never see the Princess again. He took a bit of comfort thinking she was going to die too. She didn't mind, and neither did he. He was only sorry no one would hear his voice.

Han wouldn't. It would be gratifying to come back and haunt him, Luke thought spitefully, follow him, remind him the rest of his days how he turned his back on them.

Although he could no longer count Han as a friend and the other pilots were being aloof, Luke did have one person beside Leia he could seek refuge in. Biggs had made it here. Luke's friend from home, of the Darklighter homestead, another family of moisture farmers. Biggs' application to the Imperial Academy had been accepted a year ago and he left without a backward glance.

 _It's so good to see him,_ Beru gushed. _He's grown into a fine young man._

 _Did you see his moustache?_ Owen put in.

 _I wish his family could see him._

 _You wanted to join the Academy as well,_ Owen reminded Luke.

That was true, Luke conceded. _And if I did, this group would be my enemy._ He wondered if he'd followed that life path, if it would have led him here. If he would have defected, like Biggs had. Had Han defected? He'd never gotten the story.

His desire to join the Imperial Academy had been with the goal of using it as a stepping stone to becoming what he really wanted to be, a pilot. Growing up on Tatooine he'd heard enough about the Empire to have it leave a growing discomfort in his chest. Joining the Academy would not mean joining the Empire.

 _Yes it would_ , Uncle argued. _They would pay you, provide the means for your job, where you live. Everything._

 _But I wouldn't agree with everything,_ Luke responded.

 _You'd still have to do it if you want to keep your job_.

 _If this was a few years earlier, you'd be up against me_ , Han had told him. He hadn't wanted to tell Luke that. Han, as an Imperial pilot would have to take a stand. It was his job. No matter what his conscience told him.

 _Maybe he developed a conscience_ , Beru suggested. _And that's why he's here._

 _But he's not here_ , Luke argued. _He's not anywhere. I don't think he has a conscience._

The other pilots were doing a comm check, reporting in. "Red 5," he said when it was his turn, and R2D2, stationed behind him, beeped something.

Luke and his partner broke off, swooping up steeply. The cockpit of the X-wing was all canopy, and the blackness and the stars was so liberating, so exciting. If Luke wasn't going to be killed today he thought he might die for joy.

 _See Uncle, this is what I meant. Why I wanted to leave._

 _I know you think it's great,_ Owen said gruffly, _but dying in a space fight is a hell of a lot different than racing in Beggar's Canyon. I dreaded you'd find yourself in this exact situation._

 _It's war, Owen_ , Beru noted. _He could just as easily be killed in the canyons. At least this isn't foolish._

 _I am going to need your silence, both of you,_ Ben interrupted _, if I am to help Luke win this battle._

 _The hell with the battle_ , Uncle grumbled _. Just help him survive._

He might be crazy, Luke thought of the voices chattering at him, but at least the voices were completely on his side. He would be hard pressed to admit their presence to anyone except Leia, but that didn't mean he wasn't glad they were there.

He'd been in space as a passenger aboard the _Millennium Falcon_. It was smooth and cold and _fantastic_ from the cockpit. One didn't get a sense of flight, or travel, sitting strapped in a seat in the lounge. The ship was smooth, and the engines vibrated through the decking into his shoes. It was in the cockpit where Luke had delighted in being in space. The console lights flashed seductively before him and he kept reaching a hand, in the Wookiee's way, wanting to say, "Let me try. Let me do it," but the Wookiee and Han were busy, concentrating, Han's insults flowing out of his mouth effortlessly while his hands gracefully moved around the board, eyes taking in all sorts of data. In the cockpit, space was laid out before one. It was maneuverable. You floated, spun. You had no idea you were moving unless you had a reference point. Like being pulled in a tractor beam into the Death Star...

There it was. He hadn't appreciated its size, or menace properly before. "Look at the size of that thing," one of the pilots breathed.

Luke hadn't had the knowledge, or experience, to be properly frightened when he was aboard the Death Star before. Now that he was off, and looking to fly into it, he realized he should have been terrified. The Death Star. Who had named it? It was the truest name he'd ever heard.

The Empire had changed the face of the galaxy and the way wars were fought. If they destroy Yavin, Luke told himself, then they win. Palpatine holds the entire galaxy.

 _No need for politics anymore if they win,_ Owen opined. _Just blow up the offending planet._

 _Planetary war will end,_ Beru said. _No need to fight if one push of a button will do it._

It was still quiet, only the Rebels on approach. Surely they were being monitored, but the Empire was biding its time. They were so certain of victory they weren't going to waste the fuel this early.

Strategy, Luke thought. Something he would need to understand if he wanted a career as a pilot for the Alliance. _Stop thinking of a future,_ he berated himself. _You're gonna die, remember? Get used to the idea already._

One strategy would be to deploy Tie fighters now, play with the X-wings like a sporting predator. Pick them off leisurely, lure them, one by one, until the way to the planet was clear. They might lose a few ships, but they certainly had hundreds more at their disposal. That factor shouldn't worry the Imperial commanders.

Or wait, watch. Make a move when the enemy was on you, risk some damage, but sweep them all away like a god's arm down from the heavens on its creation. Obliterate it with sudden fierce abruptness.

He was flying close enough that soon the Death Star was all he'd see out of his cockpit. So he took one last look at the openness of space. Was the _Falcon_ out here? Somewhere, still nearby? He couldn't see her. _Well,_ he thought. _That's the end of that. Nice knowing you, Han_.

The Princess told him she would be monitoring the battle from the base's communication center. She wasn't there as the others, though, to see if their plan would work. She was spiritual support for Luke. Her presence bolstered him, gave him an edge of caution; there was a possibility he could return to her. He didn't mind the alternative either, that someone was there to record his last moments, gasp in horror and grieve as he failed, until his failure brought her to him in death.

S _omeone should be down there with her,_ Beru said. _You, or the smuggler. She shouldn't die alone._

 _She's not alone,_ Luke assured her. _General Dodonna and other members of Command are there, too._

 _She needs someone who knows her. The General will look on her as a Princess. He will look to her when he dies._

 _Hush, Beru,_ Uncle Owen said in a warning tone.

 _I had your uncle,_ Beru talked over her husband, _and it made all the difference in the world._

Luke froze from flipping a lever, angling the foils. He couldn't breathe, thinking of his aunt, her last moments. His face tightened, and he was nauseous. Leia was on the moon, waiting and watching for him, but no one waited with her.

 _Perhaps, if we succeed, she only need be a Princess right now_ , Ben gently soothed him. _You must focus_.

Luke nodded. Ben spoke the truth. And Leia was certainly very focused, he had no doubt of that. She wouldn't have such thoughts, that she needed someone to die next to. Beru was being motherly.

Maybe Beru was right about Leia, Luke reflected. Maybe Leia didn't have an ideal upbringing. He still thought it would be better to be a prince than a moisture farmer, but he could see drawbacks. Maybe everything belonged to her that she lacked a sense of belonging. He was sorry no one like Beru was down on the moon, waiting with Leia.

They were in the shadow of the Death Star and Luke realized how it loomed over everything, not just here, physically, but symbolically, in every being's lives. It was a kind of tunnel vision. If somehow they won, light would shine again, life would broaden. The Princess would have her victory, her vengeance, and she wouldn't need the Captain anymore. They wouldn't fit together, Luke thought, in that new, victorious world. They fit now, where Luke and Han had dissolved all rules and anything was possible. Except, Luke reminded himself, Han had left. Maybe he hadn't seen the possibilities.

"I'm going to draw their fire," Gold Leader told the squadron, and Luke straightened in his seat, giving his head a shake inside his helmet to concentrate. _The Force is with you,_ Ben's voice was quiet, almost imperceptible.

 _Here we go,_ Luke breathed to everyone and no one. _Let's hang on as long as we can._

"I'm going in," he announced over the comm relay, and he wondered if Leia heard him. He swooped toward a trench, flinching and wincing as answering cannon fire filled the cockpit with a searing heat.

"Are you alright?" Biggs called anxiously.

"I got a little cooked," he said for Leia's benefit. "But I'm alright." He was breathing hard, feeling awoken, feeling resentful. He'd played games as a child, games of skill and wit and chance, and this was almost no different. Except it was real, forever, and it sucked. It was gritty, and tense, and he could almost feel badly for his opponent, because they shared the same desire, the need to win. Because then otherwise they were dead. _Ben, help me survive. Leia, I changed my mind. I really don't want to die. You shouldn't either._

The waiting and watching had to be hell on her, he thought. At least he was doing something, even if it was actively dying.

They started to take fatalities. Tie fighters joined the fray, seeing the X-wings were able to evade the clumsy cannon fire. Some, pilots Luke met only hours ago, struggling to attach a name to a face, went with a scream, some thought it wouldn't happen, and others went suddenly, never even seeing it. Minutes passed, and Luke was still in it. That was one thing Han had told him. The more time under one's belt, the more time won.

 _I know you're busy_ , Owen sneaked into his thoughts, _but it is like Beggar's Canyon, don't you think? Only easier, because it's so straight._

 _The canyons don't shoot back,_ Beru countered tersely.

 _Just another obstacle_ , Luke, Owen said. _Stay in it._

 _And womp rats don't follow behind shooting at you!_ Beru squealed in terror as a Tie fighter kept Luke in his sights. Luke did his best to evade it, spinning and turning and zigzagging, but there was no shaking him. Luke thought curse after curse, sorry he didn't have the time to break his concentration and have a last word for Leia, when suddenly his enemy disappeared in pieces of metal.

"Thanks, Wedge," Luke breathed in relief. That was too close. His confidence grew the same time it diminished. He felt more certain of his own abilities, less certain he'd be able to keep avoiding fire from the Ties the long he was out.

Gold Leader was gone. So was Red. Just a handful of them left. No plan, no strategy to their flight. Fire the guns, hope to inflict some damage before they died.

 _We've got to do better than this,_ Luke determined to himself. _Leia would._ He took a moment to assess the situation. There were more Ties than Rebels, so many cannons, that most likely they would all get picked off if they stayed just within reach of the Death Star. But they needed to be closer; not just closer, but _on_ the surface of the battle station. Uncle was right. It was just like Beggar's Canyon. The jutting rocks of the canyons were the same as the cannon fire. Avoid the obstacles. He made a decision.

"We're going in, and we're going in full throttle," Luke directed the others.

"Right behind you, Boss," Wedge answered grimly.

 _Trust your feelings_ , Ben instructed.

 _But the smuggler's right, don't get cocky_ , Owen answered.

 _He called you Boss_. Beru's voice was full of pride. _Did you hear that?_

"Luke, at that speed will we be able to pull out in time?" Biggs asked.

"Just like Beggar's Canyon back home," Luke said with confidence. _My feelings_ , he whispered to himself. If he did, his focus on the target was pristine. He flew, like in slow motion, approaching, approaching...

 _Luke, behind you!_ Beru screamed.

 _Sshh_ , Ben warned. _Stay out of this._

"Hurry up, Luke!" Biggs shouted into his comm.

Last words. _Hurry up, Luke_.

 _Focus, Luke._ Ben. Biggs. Luke mourned. It was hard to concentrate. He was alone in the trench, three Tie Fighters behind him. He swerved back and forth, trying to avoid their fire, and R2 squealed in malfunction. It sounded like a scream. _I'm going to die. I'm sorry, Leia._

 _Use the Force_ , _Luke._

 _Ben._ Lessons of the Force. Blocking physical vision, employing inner sight. _You've taken your steps into a larger world._ Tunnel vision…Han's laughter as the remote got him from behind, Luke removing his helmet... _I could almost see the remote..._ the Princess on the moon... _help me, Obi Wan Kenobi._

"You switched your targeting computer off. Is everything alright?" Command wanted to know. _I'm alright, Leia. Don't worry. I think I can do this._

 _Behind you! Luke, watch out!_ Beru seemed like she was clutching at her husband's presence, unable to follow the battle.

Approaching, approaching...it was time to die. Or-

"Woo-hoo!" came a great whoop. Luke smiled, his focus never wavering, not using his eyes but seeing the target, seeing the _Millennium Falcon,_ hearing, knowing, knowing Han had done more than return, more than protect Luke's back, more than clear his way by eliminating the Ties behind him. Han had joined his fight.

 _Is that the smuggler?_ Uncle wondered aloud. _He came back?_

"Blow this thing and let's go home!" Han shouted and as Luke let the shot go, he thought to ask Han _did you see the first one didn't go in? Just impacted on the surface? You really think I can do this? And what do you mean by home?_

After it was gone Luke knew his shot was good. He knew it in the base of his spine. But he wasn't ready to celebrate yet. _Don't get caught in the blast, don't get caught,_ he repeated over and over again, until he could see the same kind of rubble he'd seen when they hit Alderaan's debris field.

 _It'd be a damn shame if this is what killed you._

 _That's what I thought about the garbage masher_ , Luke allowed to his uncle, concentrating on his piloting. Somehow, he knew he would make it back to base. _I am, right Ben? I'll make it back_. He followed behind the _Millennium Falcon_.

It was fate. Fate that kept him waiting on Tatooine, while his other friends departed for lives he wanted; fate that kept him from drowning a ridiculous death; fate that would bring him back to the moon to his Princess.

 _See, the smuggler does have a conscience,_ Beru said, overjoyed.

Her comment was illuminating. He would reunite with Leia, who never left, but also with Han, who had. _Han has a fate, too_ , Luke recognized.

 _Of course he does,_ Ben said. _No being wanders through life alone._

 _Ben_ , Luke wanted to sob. It wasn't just the victory, or the shot, though of course if it was. But it was so much more. It was the openness, the clarity, the sheer vision. Luke had glimpsed the power of the Force before, just gotten the merest peek. This, what happened as he lost himself in his feelings, or whatever this was; he wasn't sure what to call it; this was like living on a planet and then being able to view it from space. To remove oneself from day to day sights and thoughts, to fly higher than a tree, out and beyond. To see your world, your life, expand beyond typical awareness, to step out, to be.

 _You did it, Luke._ Ben, too, sounded overcome with emotion.

Luke barely used the ladder to help his descent out of the X-wing. "Leia!" he shouted, looking all over the hangar for her. The victory was hers, he had done it for her. She jumped into his arms, looking almost like the woman in the holomessage, dressed the same, only not furtive and strained. This woman's cheeks were flushed and her smile was so wide and her hair was a mess but she was laughing. They celebrated, and Luke felt like a child, jumping with uncontained excitement and joy for life. The rest of Base One was flowing into the hangar, full of cheer and victory.

They barreled into Han when he appeared, both of them, shouting and happy, as if the victory was just as much that he had returned to them as it was the destruction of the Death Star.

"I knew there was more to you than money," Leia exulted.

"I wasn't going to let you take all the reward," Han answered, ruffling Luke's head, contradicting Leia, as always.

 _I think we still have a long way to go_ , Uncle stated baldly.

 _At least they know_ , Beru said. _He can talk all he wants, but it's never going to take away from the simple fact that he came back._

 _Unless someone does indeed give him a proper reward this time_.

 _Luke, make sure the smuggler doesn't get a reward,_ Beru said hastily.

Luke laughed. He laughed at Beru, who still didn't trust her faith in Han; he laughed at Han, who came back, and he laughed with Leia, because they had accomplished the unthinkable. He laughed because he felt the Force and he laughed because they had won. It was an extraordinary moment.

 _Ancestor Luke's descendants chanted in a sing-song manner, he came back, he came back_. His fairy tale continued, his audience was gripped with excitement, zooming around firing imaginary missiles.

 _Ancestor Luke, tell us again how you made the shot,_ they jumped up and down, full of hero worship.

 _It wasn't the shot that won the battle,_ he'd tell them. _It was Ben, beside me, telling me to trust myself. It was the Princess, who believed in me, and waited for me on the moon. And it was the Smuggler, who came back for me._


	5. Danse Macabre

_Thanks to all who have left such thoughtful reviews. I enjoy the interaction from you and somehow you keep me focused. If something strikes a chord, one way or another, let me know!_

 _On to the Rebellion celebrating its first major victory..._

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It was completely improbable is what it was. All of it. Or some of it. Most, anyways. Where the hell had Han gone to?

In an effort to keep his thoughts straight, Luke tried to think of all the things that were crazy, upside down, like a chance of snow on Tatooine.

First, there was this party. Weren't military bases based on discipline? Where had all this liquor come from? He'd heard a rumor that Mon Mothma, when she raced from her hiding place to celebrate the destruction of the Death Star, had stowed several cases aboard her transport. But looking at her, stately and formal, he kind of doubted the veracity of that. So that left him still with no idea how there happened to be so much alcohol. It was probably contraband. _Han. That's right, I was looking for Han._

Then, there was this party. He held up a second finger to make his list and had to look at his hand, because he wasn't sure his hand was working right, and tripped over a root. He stumbled, and a group of celebrants sitting on the ground nearby caught his movement, but unfortunately not him, and he landed on his knees, his little paper cup of whiskey, or wine, he wasn't sure which, squashed in his fist.

"Skywalker!" they celebrated.

Luke waved a feeble hand. "Yeah, yeah," he said tiredly. Little bits of mulch had stuck to his palm. The stuff, whatever it was, was sugary.

Someone pressed a new cup in his hand and they raised theirs. "Skywalker!" they said again, and they all drank.

 _You could say no, you know,_ his uncle grumbled.

"Looking for P'sis," Luke told the group. No, not her; he'd seen her a moment ago. She was standing with the alleged liquor smuggler, Senator Mothma. Smuggler, that's right. "I mean Solo."

"He's somewhere," someone answered unhelpfully.

"Thanks," Luke mumbled. He had a feeling he'd been interrupted, and looked at the celebrants, wondering if they could tell him what he'd been doing.

"Great party, isn't it?" one said.

He pointed at the speaker in thanks _. "_ My list." He turned his palm upwards, brought out the thumb for the party, and straightened the forefinger for the second item, which was...the party. Right! Luke brightened, glad he remembered. _I'm not that drunk._

 _Yes you are._

The party. Yes, the fact that they were even able to _have_ a party, that was crazy. They were all supposed to be dead, little bits of space dust flaring in atmosphere.

Third, that it was the Death Star that was dead. Was that the same thing as the second item, being able to party? He shrugged. Just depended on how you looked at it.

He couldn't move his ring finger so brought the pinky out as a substitute.

The Death Star had turned into fireworks. That was another item on his list. Spectacular balls of flame streaking orange across the sky, like his flight suit, like all the other pilots that didn't make it back, landing somewhere in the rainforest. It became a drinking game. One flared, and the base would raise their paper cups and shout, "To Death!" and drink.

Maybe it wasn't unlikely, that wreckage would reach atmosphere, but celebrating it? That seemed...Luke lost his train of thought. Maybe not unlikely. Something. He couldn't think of the word.

That he was a drinking game, that was unfathomable. Now all his fingers were extended. Back home he'd be lucky to...Luke struggled. To play a game.

"To Death!" he heard, and raised his head to watch the streaking, falling, meteoroid. It was beautiful, really. It brightened the night sky, outlining silhouettes of the groups of people, Leia in her glowing white gown, the tall form of the Wookiee. Well, then, Han should be nearby.

Heroes. _T_ _hat definitely goes on the list,_ he thought. He and Han. Smuggler and Farm Boy. Now Force Boy. Luke grasped the Medal of Bravery hanging around his neck, put there by Leia. She was the hero. He spun on one foot, raising his glass to the clearing. "The P'sis!" he called. "She's the hero!"

"Skywalker!" was the resounding answer.

He cataloged the reasons why on his other hand. It was she who obtained the plans, she was the one who survived capture by the Empire, she who was Alderaanian. Hero status belonged to her and her alone. Luke shook his head. He was no hero. Han even less.

A story was going around, of the rescue, and it amused Luke. He himself hadn't gone into great detail about it. In the briefing before the battle, when he was truly sober, he had told them the facts as he had them and had not embellished anything and he knew Leia hadn't either. He'd heard Han, after the party started, tell a group of hangers-on, "why don't you ask the Princess. She handled it mostly," so he was self-effacing about it, too. I _t's not something either of us can be proud of,_ Luke knew. _Courageous, but foolish and really, really lucky too._

So how everyone thought he and Han had won a shootout in the hangar bay after capture, how they had grabbed the Princess from the clutches of the executioner, blaster held to her head, how they had disabled the tractor beam by swinging unobserved around the Death Star on grappling hooks- _that part's funny,_ Owen had said- how he had dueled Darth Vader, was beyond Luke.

Han was leaning back, alone, against the smooth-yet-rough stone of the hangar temple, silhouetted against the bright lights of the interior, invisible. _I see you._

Something was different. Luke looked around, wondering why he had stopped. He'd wanted to find Han, and he had. He was hard to find, drunk or not. It was night, dark; the meteoroid shower lit up the clearing in infrequent, unreliable moments, revealing just figures. Flashes of hair, skin. Everyone wore the same thing.

It was the stone, Luke realized. Han was the only one to sit against the stone. Everyone else was out in the clearing, sitting cross-legged in groups on the ground, relishing the openness, the freedom of movement. _Well, they've been in hiding. They can step out now._

Han was glib, suave, older. He radiated this intensity, yet projected a lightness; everything inconsequential, unimportant. Luke wasn't sure how to take him. There were reasons why he wanted to like him, and there were things about him he didn't like. _Another list,_ he muttered. _I'm out of hands_. Luke didn't like the moments Han fought with the Princess, but then he couldn't say he really liked the times they got on. He was still glad Han came back and finally joined the fight, but that was what bothered him, the word finally. If it wasn't for the fact that Luke was standing here, for which he was grateful, and for the fact that the Death Star was no more, which was fantastic, he would have said _too little too late_.

"Skywalker," Han said with a wry awareness that he could set the base off on another round of celebration if he said it lound enough, but he said it quietly, raising the hand holding the paper cup in greeting.

Luke dropped heavily across from him and took a moment to blink him into focus. "Did you get a souvenir?" he asked. Earlier, when it was still daylight, celebrants had ventured into the rain forest to collect what pieces of the Death Star fell from the sky. Luke understood. It made it real. If you could see it, then you could believe it.

Han made a face, indicating no. "You?"

"No. We should get a piece of Alderaan, don't you think?"

Han puffed air out of his lips. "Absolutely not. That's….macabre."

"What's that mean?"

"Bad taste."

"Oh," Luke said. That was a good word. It fit when unfathomable didn't quite work. He squinted at Han. "Aren't outlaws considered bad taste?"

Han's eyes widened in surprise. "Welcome to the club, junior."

"So is this bad taste?" Luke gestured around the giant drinking party, the little pieces of metal he knew were tucked in pockets, resting besides new owners on the damp ground.

"Probably," Han said. "To someone. That's the problem with taste."

Luke held his hand up in the air before letting his forefinger jab in emphasis. "Exactly. Leia said I came to the ceremony dressed as a smuggler."

"No, you came dressed as me."

"Yeah." Luke looked down at himself and spread his hands out. "Brown trousers, yellow piping," he cataloged for Han's benefit. Or the rain forest's, because obviously Han knew his own clothing. He eyed Han's dark trousers. "Yours is red. Long-sleeved black shirt. Yellow jacket, 'cause this wet air's cold."

Han laughed at him. He wasn't wearing a jacket. His only concession to dressing up for the medal ceremony had been to close his collar, but it was open again, to the sternum. Luke frowned at his appearance. It was a tad disheveled, the start of being undressed.

"Have you been with someone?" he accused. He'd seen a few couples around. It didn't seem like Han, not the kind to jump in wholeheartedly, but to stay in the background, unobserved so he could observe; but also it was like Han, or anyway, it wouldn't have surprised Luke. But then again Han wasn't really the kind to flaunt. He bragged, but didn't flaunt. So then he wouldn't have left himself half undressed. _So which is it, Skywalker?_ He hunched his shoulders, waiting to see if just thinking his own name would cause the base to drink a round. _Decide._ Well, maybe not. Maybe Han was just warm. They all said it was warm, but they didn't know warm. This place could be chilly.

Gods, his brain would not shut up. Round and round he went, over all kinds of topics. And it was just him; Beru and Owen and Ben were mostly quiet. He had a feeling they were just watching him make a fool of himself but the alcohol obliterated any sense of control he had. That's why he had resorted to making lists. _Oh yeah, the clothing._ "And the boots," Luke added.

Han returned his gaze to him, blinking slowly. "Thought you were done talking."

"Don't forget the boots. I'm keeping those."

Han flicked his wrist. "Keep 'em. You got big feet."

Luke plucked at the piping. "So are these your Bloodstripes?" he asked, thinking possession of the two Orders might be unusual, if not outright unlikely. "You'd have to be...I don't know. Rare. Or dead."

Han scowled at Luke. "Whose else would they be?"

"I don't know," Luke answered. "You're so proud of your outlaw status."

"You're saying I stole them?" Han glared.

"Well," Luke started to feel badly, like the conversation started rolling downhill out of his control. It seemed he'd hit a nerve. "I can see it going both ways, Han. That you earned them or stole them."

"Thanks a lot," Han said, not sounding grateful at all.

"That's kind of a compliment, don't you think?" Luke tried to defend himself. "It says a lot about you."

"It says two completely different things!"

"You get it!" Luke said, beaming. "The whole night is like that. It's this," he turned his right palm over, "and then it's that." He showed his left palm.

"You wanna know something about the Bloodstripes?" Han asked.

"Yeah?" Luke leaned in, thinking _this is going to be good._

 _It's good,_ Ben answered.

 _You heard it?_ Uncle Owen wanted to know.

 _The Wookiee told me._

"You automatically get yellow when they award you red," Han said in a dramatic hush.

Luke blinked, the lack of answer leaving him completely unsure how to respond.

"To Death!" rose a loud cry, and Luke turned around from his seat on the ground to watch the piece of wreckage burn up in atmosphere.

"That was a big one," Han said, surrounded in wry wariness, the wreckage reflected in his eyes. "Bet the Emperor is pissed about his Death Star."

Luke snorted, the understatement hilarious, wonderful, perfect at the moment. "Damn Death Star," he said, meaning Ben, his Princess. It was the best he could articulate at the moment.

" _She_ looked like a Princess," Han said, going back to the subject of clothing. He didn't seem as drunk as Luke, but he was definitely affected by having more than a few drinks. He indicated Leia with a nod of his head. Luke turned and spotted her as well. She did not look like she was having a good time. Forlorn, lonely even, among such a crowd.

"She did," Luke agreed. "She is a Princess, that's why. She passed me."

"Passed you?"

"For a while, we were the same, you know. We had nothing. And now, she's got this pretty dress."

"You got a flight suit."

"And she has a job."

"You're a pilot now."

"But she's important," Luke stressed.

"You're the man of the hour," Han said, surprised at Luke.

"Hour," Luke stressed. "Time passes."

"You'll be in the history books," Han said.

"I will? I was just Red 5."

"Red 5 that made the shot. You saw Mon Mothma's message to the Emperor."

The Medal Ceremony waited for Mon Mothma's arrival. She had made a lengthy, mournful speech, chronicling the efforts of leaders like herself, the numerous times it was almost lost, like today, and praised each pilot who died in battle, reading their names out to the gathered crowd. Then she had recorded a message and had it circulated around the news outlets, declaring the Alliance as a governing body and seeking recognition from other worlds.

"Yeah, but, she didn't name me."

"Don't worry, someone will."

"Can I tell you something?" Luke said. Someone passed by where they were sitting on the ground, jolted to a stop in recognition, and shouted "Skywalker!" Before Luke could react someone had deposited a new drink for him and Han, and the two men drank to the toast. Luke leaned forward conspiratorially, and Han mirrored his movements, until their elbows were almost touching on their knees. "It was Ben," he whispered.

Han was motionless, except for a slight raising of his brows. He waited for Luke to add something, and when he didn't, asked, "The old man?"

Luke nodded meaningfully.

"That Force shit you were trying on the ship?"

Luke nodded again.

"You think it worked, huh?" Han slid his elbows back and took his place back on the stone.

Luke nodded a third time. "I made the shot," he said dramatically, "on a feeling."

Han seemed amused. "You made the shot alright, but I have a feeling you're crazy."

"And now my name's a drinking game, and my elbow is sore from having my hand shaken, and I've never been kissed, or hugged, or patted or...so much in my life. How about you?" Luke asked. "I'm a good luck charm now. They all want to touch me, have some of that luck rub off on them."

"Tough life, kid," Han shook his head in mock sympathy. "No one's getting any of my luck. I need all I can get."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, then looked up sharply. "I mean about being approachable." He was thinking it, but by Han's expression thought maybe he hadn't said anything. Earlier Luke had noticed how the whole base seemed to need to attach themselves to him, soak in his presence, hear his story, share theirs. But no one reacted that way to Leia. She emanated grief and happiness and vulnerability that all just wanted to protect her, treasure her, but when they got close, that resolve stopped them. All they could do was lower their eyes, and say with utmost emotion, "Your Highness", and the way she held her head told everyone _I serve you._

Han didn't have the same aura of grief or loss as Luke or Leia. Their stories had gotten out but Han had not let anything slip, and he cut more of a dashing figure of adventure and romance. People drank with him, shook his hand, talked with him, but they didn't _swallow_ him, as Luke felt had happened to him. Something held them back. Not quite the same as Leia. Han certainly didn't serve anyone, or if he did, he certainly wouldn't announce it. _He helped me out, though._

"How can I be a good luck charm?" Luke continued. "I mean, look at me. Stolen droids," Luke held up a finger. "Then my aunt and uncle are killed, then Ben."

"Skywalker!"

Luke tried not to groan as another cup was pressed into his hand. His mood was shifting, thinking about all he had lost. He drank the token shot, swallowing with a bitter face.

"Another for my list," he mentioned to Han. "How is it I drink this stuff, I'm drinking, but I'm so thirsty? Gah, it just burns."

"Stop, then," Han suggested. "You can always say no, you know."

"That's what my uncle said," Luke said, looking at Han with glazed eyes.

Han's brows went up again. "Your uncle? That one?" he waved his hand by his temple, trying to be delicate.

"And Biggs," Luke continued to list, nodding at Han but not really listening. "It's like if you know me, you die."

"I haven't died," Han said.

"Yet," Luke retorted darkly.

"Or the Princess."

"Yeah, but she's like me. Bigger. Everyone she knows got killed."

"So she's safe?"

"Not from you. Or, you're not from her. Sorry. Said that wrong. But maybe you're my good luck charm," Luke said. "I'd be dead if it weren't for you getting those Ties off my tail. We'd all be dead. All of us." He gestured around the clearing.

"I'm not your good luck charm. I'm not anybody's good luck charm. Stop saying stuff like that."

Luke overrode Han. "Are you Chewbacca's, too? Or is he yours?" He scanned the crowd for the Wookiee. "I saw him earlier. He's always nearby wherever you are. I noticed that."

"Skywalker!"

"Not again." Luke waved his arm vaguely in the air, to acknowledge the toast. "I _am_ going to say no. Watch me. Oh, there he is. I bet if I stood near him, they'd leave me alone." The Wookiee was, again, easy to spot, though Luke couldn't remember if he had moved from where he'd spotted him before. His sharp white teeth were flashing, which Luke had seen before, but Chewbacca was talking now. _Not unlikely,_ Luke decided, looking at his finger. _Just different._ _Who's he talking to, though? How can anyone understand him? Is it just me?_ He took in the crowd gathered around the Wookiee, remembering that Leia couldn't understand him either, and settled back in relief to Han when he finally noticed C-3PO standing next to him, happily translating.

He puzzled over the relationship of the big Wookiee to Han. He knew they were partners, and Chewbacca was copilot, but it seemed to go a bit deeper than that. Certainly the Wookiee watched out for his partner. Luke remembered his worried whine when he followed Han after the stormtroopers. "Chewbacca seems to be having fun," he hinted to Han, hoping to learn more about them.

Han grunted.

"He's got a crowd around him." Luke watched, amused. "It's like he's holding court. Prince Chewbacca." He laughed at the idea of it, but then he realized he had no idea about Wookiees at all. He knew a Princess, a human one, and thought there was something regal in the Wookiee too. "Tell me about Chewbacca," he burped to Han.

"I don't gossip, kid," Han said. His fingers were light around his cup, and he was just...speaking. Luke couldn't decide if he was hiding, or joking, or defending, or what.

"I just want to know," he whined. "He's like your shadow." He saw he was going to get nothing out of Han. "I thought you were drunk," he complained.

"Not as drunk as you. Or as talkative. Ever."

Luke scowled and returned his gaze to the crowd. "Supposed to be a party," he said.

Leia was another one not hard to spot. She was far smaller than Chewbacca, lost in the crowd, but it was her white gown, that glowed like moonlight, and it was the company she kept, General Dodonna and Mon Mothma, standing beside her. No one held a drink, and they stood rather than sat on the ground. They looked uncomfortable, taken aback, like this aspect of victory was something they hadn't taken the time to consider.

"Skywalker!" came a shout, and Luke's posture sank a bit as another cup of drink was deposited in front of him.

"'S'a party," he said again. "Bad taste." He drank, and made a face. "Stuff tastes bad, too. You know what I think?" he mused to Han, his tongue in his cheek, finding his own fun if Han wasn't going to provide it. "I think the Princess needs rescuing. Again." Luke smiled, thinking rescuing Leia from the clutches of Command was hilarious. "Will you help me? They're gonna," Luke frowned, trying to stay clever, "they're gonna, promote her."

"Better her than me," Han played along.

She really did look miserable. And she wasn't holding a drink. "Probably," Luke agreed sadly. "Let's go get her."

"Okay," Han agreed, and they stood, Han slapping his cup down so that liquid sloshed over the rim. "You're the brains."

Luke brushed at his rear, which felt damp from sitting on the fertile ground, thinking maybe Han was drunk.

Together they weaved through the clearing to shouts of "Skywalker!", lurching around clusters of people on the ground, and brushing off invitations to sit.

Leia was watching them, Luke could see. He knew he had a silly grin plastered over his face. He looked up at Han, whose face was impassive, as usual, except for the eyes.

"Princess," Han interrupted her gathering with a bow.

"We've come to rescue you!" Luke burst out.

Dodonna and Mon Mothma both looked tolerantly bored at Princess Leia's admirers, but Leia smiled. "I'm afraid my valiant knights have arrived," she said dryly to Mothma and Dodonna. "If you don't mind, I think I'll turn in. It's been a trying day."

Dodonna bowed. "Of course, Your Highness. Several trying days for you."

Mothma inclined her head graciously. "Your father would be so proud."

"Yes. Thank you." There was an awkward silence. Luke looked between Mothma and Dodonna. Something ridiculous was going on here, and all he knew was he didn't like it. It was pompous, and superior, and he glared at Command, resentful.

They had taken his Princess away! This wasn't the warm, lively woman in the holomessage. This woman was a status...a...his mouth dropped open in horror...an idea. She wasn't Leia to them. She was her father, and Alderaan, and an inspirat -no, that wasn't it. She was a goal. Something that should never happen again. He felt angry, and looked at Leia. How could you do that to a living being? It was unfathomable. She knew it, too, and seemed resigned in sadness.

Han slung an arm over her shoulder. "Time to put a Princess to bed," he said cheerfully. Luke noted Mon Mothma looked shocked. Dodonna had raised an arm, ready to pull the Princess away if she indicated it, scowling in distaste.

But Leia allowed Han to turn her away from them, and Luke grabbed her hand. "Stay with us, Leia," he pleaded in a murmur, looking for a pulse, as if her life force were fading.

 _You're overreacting,_ Uncle grumbled. _They can't turn her to stone_.

Of course it was his uncle in his head, his own thoughts. But they would try it, he was certain of it. Here, with the stone, wherever it came from, to worship in those temples, _Your Worshipfulness,_ her skin porcelain, her voice hard and cutting. And pieces of metal were falling from the sky, adding to the stone, pieces of her imprisonment, pieces of the thing that killed Alderaan. She was in danger. She was surrounded by people who cared, but because she was a princess, because they were so enamored of her person, her abilities, if she asked them to turn her to stone, they would. Even Luke.

"Thank the Stars," Leia breathed when they were out of earshot. "Can we go to the _Falcon_?"

Han looked down at her. People sitting on the ground, celebrating, watched as they passed. The Princess had changed the game. They did not shout Luke's name, and overhead a streak of orange hissed noisily, wreckage burning itself out. "You're pretty direct," Han told her in appreciation, "but -"

She wrenched herself from under his arm, shook Luke's hand out of hers, and marched through the clearing.

"Hey, Luke," Han nudged him with his elbow, "she's doing it again."

"Rescuing herself?" Luke grinned. "Good."

They followed her up the ramp of the _Falcon_ , into the lounge. She was waiting for them, glaring at Han, flushed and irritated. "If they mention my father one more time," she threatened to them.

Luke slid into the bench and she took her spot next to him, just as they had sat when they traveled together previously. "How can they treat you like that?" he asked. "Parade you around. Don't they know you were a prisoner?"

"Just how are they supposed to treat me, Luke?" she challenged him.

He wanted to say, _not like a princess_ , but kept his mouth shut, because maybe that's what she expected. "I don't know," he finally answered. She _was_ improbable, the most of anything. Her presence, her being. She was a ghost, a survivor. Princess and victim.

Han turned bleary eyes toward her, politely interested. "Did you not get along with your father?" he asked.

"I did. Of course I did," Leia said somewhat defensively. "Just how drunk are the two of you?"

"Not 'of course'," Han rejoined smoothly. "I didn't. And pretty drunk."

"Me, too," Luke said.

"Would it still affect you if you found out he got blown up?" Leia asked Han.

Han looked over her shoulder. "I was just asking, Princess. You sounded upset they want to talk about your father. Could be 'cause you hated him."

"Well it's because he's _dead_ , Captain," she said acidly. "It's been confirmed he was on planet."

"Why don't you let them talk then?" Han asked.

"I – I can't take their grief for me right now."

Luke eyed Leia worriedly. It was happening before his eyes. _I serve you._ That resolve, Princess strength, closing over the woman, sealing her, entombing her. _Shock freezes,_ Ben had said. "Watch out for stone, Han," Luke said. "Do what you do."

"What the hell are you talking about," Han looked curiously at Luke. "Chewie!" he hollered. "Maybe they have their own grief, did you think of that?" he said to Leia.

Luke nodded approvingly. _That's it,_ he thought.

"I don't need theirs either," she spat back.

Chewbacca appeared, woofing a question at Han."No, we're good," Han answered. "There's one in the galley for you. Oh, hey," he called to the Wookiee. "Bring us some of that water, will you?"

"I didn't know my father," Luke said. "I thought he'd died on a space cruiser, but when Ben told me Darth Vader had killed him….it was like learning of his death all over again."

"Darth Vader killed your father?" Leia asked, her face gone pale.

Luke nodded. Chewie reappeared, a large pitcher in his hands. He said something to Han, who nodded, and poured the contents into three new glasses.

"Ben told me my father was a Jedi, like him. I never knew that. Hey," he suddenly realized. "How come my aunt or uncle never told me that?"

Han grinned with just a corner of his mouth. "You'll have to ask them."

"I will," Luke said firmly. He turned his head slightly, leaving Han and Leia, but there was no answering explanation coming from either of them. Ben, too, was silent. _Where are you? What, are you all drunk too?_

"He got killed in the Purge?" Han guessed.

"The what?" Luke hadn't heard the term before. "It was before I was born."

"Sounds about right," Han assessed, and Leia agreed with a nod. "When Palpatine seized power, he had the Jedi killed. He's been in power how long?"

"About twenty years," Leia answered.

"I'm nineteen," Luke answered automatically. He stared at them, both more knowledgeable than he. Why didn't he know this? A slaughter? His father had been slaughtered? Dimly, he recalled Ben saying something about Darth Vader assisting the Empire in rounding up the Jedi.

"Darth Vader was on the Death Star," Leia said quietly, and Luke nodded. The figure in black, skull-shaped helmet, swinging a saber, stepping on Ben's robes. "He interrogated me," she said.

Luke saw Han was looking back and forth between the two. It made him dizzy, watching his eyes shift from side to side, so he concentrated on his water.

"Quite the coincidence," Han commented lightly, "both of you got Vader in common," but he didn't look like he was taking it lightly. "It makes sense he handled the interrogation. Stolen plans and all. That was a pretty big deal you pulled off. You didn't tell him anything? It really was a tracking device on the _Falcon_ that brought them here?" Now Han sounded impressed.

Leia was barely listening, shaking her head at some inner memory. Luke saw she was clearly disturbed. "He...first he tried to get the information from me by..." she put her head in her hand, curling over herself in the seat. "It's so hard to describe it. By thinking it. Thinking it out of me. It was like a psychic invasion." She shuddered.

 _He was a pupil of mine_ , Luke remembered Ben telling him, _until he turned to evil._ "He used the Force," he realized to Leia. "But you could resist him?"

"I had to," Leia said, a pleading in her eyes. "I couldn't let him win." She straightened her shoulders, finding that resolve. "I didn't let him win. I just kept saying no. In my head. No, no. Even with the interrogation droid."

"Sweetheart," Han declared fondly, "you are one tough lady."

"Don't call me Sweetheart," she answered tartly.

Han smiled. "I'm calling you Sweetheart. It's a mark of respect."

"You'll never hear it cross my lips about you," Leia said.

Luke was still playing catch up, trying to digest earlier parts of the conversation. He could see his hand on the other side of the glass, through the water. Crystal clear. "At least he's dead now, if he was on the Death Star."

Leia shook her head. "No, he survived."

"What!?" Luke exlcaimed. "How?"

"He was in one of the Ties, chasing you in the trench."

"Wait, I got him," Han protested. "Made a great two-for-one shot."

Leia shook her head again. "No. You sent him into a spin."

"Well," Luke felt himself grabbing at straws. He moved closer to Leia, who didn't seem to mind he was almost sitting on top of her for comfort. "How do you know it was him?"

"His was special built," Leia answered. She hunched her shoulders and shook her head rapidly. "Modified for his size. And he didn't need the oxygen regulators, apparently. We ID'd it during the battle sequence. We had all ship coords plotted out, and spliced into the Imperial communications."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll spin into a moon or something," Han offered.

"We had reports he rendevoused with a Star Destroyer," Leia told him.

Han flung his hands up in exasperation. "You're impossible to cheer up," he said, and Leia smiled.

"But," Luke protested. "But, that means -"

Leia shrugged. "It means he's alive is all."

Luke took a sip of his water, and the coldness of it coursed through his entire body, matching his sudden fear. _A pupil of mine...turned to evil...killed your father._ Connections, coincidence. Ben and Vader, Ben and Luke. _Years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars._ Ben and Leia? _the Dark Side of the Force...before dark times. Before the Empire._ "Who _is_ Darth Vader?"

 _Listen. I'm telling you._

 _Ben?_ Luke jerked his head up.

"Just Palpatine's henchman, is what I've heard," Han drawled.

"He's a monster," Leia said.

Luke extracted himself from Leia a bit and looked into his glass of water, like it could reveal something to him. Han had a way of understating things, making them small, while Leia spoke grandly. Which was the truth? Could Vader be both?

"This water is so clear," Luke said, feeling hopeless. It was the only thing he knew. His fingers around the glass weren't distorted at all. Not magnified by the glass, not clouded by the contents. "Nothing like this night. I don't know how to take anything."

"I think, maybe, you've had a bit too much to drink," Leia said gently.

Luke brought his elbow up and it thunked loudly on the table. "I'm starting to not feel so good."

Han smiled. "It's spring fed," he told Luke. "Drink up. It'll help in the morning."

"Spring fed? What's that mean?"

"Means the water flows underground."

"Underground?" Luke was amazed. "There's water underneath the dirt?" The concept was mind-boggling. And somehow comforting. Something so beautiful, so beneficial, was hidden underground. You only had to find it.


	6. The Art of Leaving

__Ben?__ Luke tested.

 _Good morning, dear. Are you feeling better?_

Luke groaned. "Beru?"

There was a rough shake on his leg. "Name's Han, remember? Come on, you gotta get up."

Luke rolled over and blinked. His head seemed to not have rolled over with him. He groaned again.

"Yeah," Han sounded sympathetic but amused. "I left you some water on the shelf over there. I'm kicking you off the ship."

Water? Luke gingerly moved his head. His eyeballs felt like they couldn't move, swollen and stuck. Gradually he got them where his head was pointing and saw a glass, filled with the pristine clear liquid harvested from an aquifer somewhere in Yavin's forest. He hadn't heard or seen, or sensed at all really, Han leave, but the room was empty. He was in bed, the same berth he'd used before during the flight to Yavin. _How did I get here._ His eyes crawled to the other cot, opposite his, and managed to eke out a thought: _Leia._ The cot was made, blankets stretched smooth and tucked in. Had she slept here last night too? Did Han make beds? He had absolutely no recollection.

He lowered his feet to the floor and put his chin to his chest, gripping the mattress with all his might, feeling like he could keel over.

 _Drink some water,_ Beru urged. _It will help._

 _Beautiful stuff,_ came Uncle Owen's voice.

 _You're here?_ Luke asked. _I missed you last night._

 _No, you didn't,_ Beru answered. _You were having fun with your friends. You were alive and enjoying yourself._

 _Am I dead now? I feel like hell._

 _It's called a hangover,_ Owen said.

His lightsaber was on the ledge next to the glass, as well as a pill.

Luke moved achingly slowly and sipped carefully at the water, closing his eyes, unable to ignore the throbbing in his head. It was harder to ignore the movements of his stomach but the water helped a little.

He looked himself over. He was still wearing Han's clothes from the medal ceremony. "I don't remember going to bed," Luke tested his voice. "Han?"

He moved through the ship, hugging the walls. Noises came from the side, where he'd learned the cargo bays were. "Han?"

Chewbacca roared a greeting and Luke clutched his head. "Ech," he groaned. "I drank enough to Skywalker last night to last me a life time."

The Wookiee made for a long answer, and Luke would really liked to have known what he was saying, but as neither Han nor C-3PO were around, he could only stand there, his ears taking in cacophonous sounds, his weary brain telling him futilely it was language.

"You're loading," he observed slowly, and as Chewbacca answered again, interrupted, waving his hand vaguely. "I'll go...I need to find Han. Thanks."

He squinted when he got outside, brows drawing together to protect the ache in his eyes. Sunlight dappled among the green leaves. The air had a smell, last vestiges of leaves as they decomposed, fragrant flowers, stirred earth. Steam rose from the ground that was warmed by the sun.

 _Steam_ , Owen marveled. _You can bet no one living on this planet ever heard of moisture farming._

 _What would you do for a living, Uncle Owen, if you lived here now?_

 _But I don't, Luke. There's no point even considering it._

There was a certain finality about death, Luke thought, even if a voice lived on in one's head.

Han was outside, steering a repulsor cart loaded with boxes towards the ship. Luke stood in the way, noting Han was clean shaven, and wondering if he should tell Leia his eyes were green this morning, like the leaves, and though they looked a little bleary, a little tired, the rest of him was fresh as the air.

"What's going on?" Luke asked.

"Base is evacuating," Han told him.

"Evacuating," Luke repeated feebly but with growing alarm, wincing at the pain in his head. "But why?" Luke looked back down at the ground, so inviting. His legs felt hollow and they ached. Surely the ground would hold him.

"Because the Empire knows the location. Since, you know, we gave it to them." In comparison Han seemed to rise from the ground, energy and prowess contained within.

"But - we already had a battle. And they lost."

"One teeny loss." Han made a measurement with his thumb and forefinger, microns apart. "Just the Death Star. There's still the whole fleet, the Emperor. Empire's not done, kid," Han slapped a hand on Luke's shoulder, which felt like he slammed a hammer on his head. Luke closed his eyes.

"Are we going to fight again?" Luke left his inner tunnel of headache and exhaustion, thinking just when he made a step forward he was forced to take two steps back.

"No, by the time they get here, there won't be anything left. But they'd be stupid not to follow up, take a chance the Alliance would be stupid enough to dig in. Wipe it out if they can."

Luke's shoulders slumped. He wondered when things would stop moving so fast. From Tatooine to the Death Star to Yavin, and then what? "Didn't I do this already?"

"No." Han regarded Luke with his head cocked and one eye almost closed, mouth pursed. "No, that was different. That was what you call fleeing. Fleeing is not evacuating; it's running away as fast as you can. We left Tatooine in a hurry, and I don't think those stormtroopers firing at us was entirely my fault."

Luke remembered. They'd been followed into docking bay 94. Captain Solo, gesturing chivalrously with his polishing cloth, _we're in a bit of a rush..._ He opened his mouth, about to ask what was Han's fault, when Han continued his lecture on the art of leaving.

"Next, is called escaping. That's also leaving in a hurry, but different. Fleeing is...running, in any direction to stay out of their clutches. Escaping is leaving by running somewhere, to get the hell out of their clutches, and fast. But now, this, is evacuating."

"Which is stay out of their clutches," Luke put in.

"Yeah, but instead of get away as fast as you can, it's more like," Han finished the sentence speaking quickly, "let's hide somewhere else."

Luke still didn't see much difference in the terms as defined by Han. Nor did it seem to bother Han in the slightest. "Am I right in feeling that this isn't an emergency?" Everyone seemed so darn cheerful about it.

Han nodded. "It's urgent, but there's plenty of time. You want some kaf?"

"I have to find my clothes," Luke said.

"Breakfast is that-away," Han indicated one of the temples.

"I'm not sure I can eat," Luke admitted.

"You aren't the only one. Most are probably feeling like you. They cooked a really bland meal. Bread mostly."

"OK. I'm gonna sit here a moment."

"Don't get too comfy," Han grinned. "Afterburners will cook you when I lift off."

Luke sat down, feeling drained. The base was evacuating; moving, rapidly, efficiently, urgently, and he needed to be like that too, to feel like that, but all he could manage was a few paces before wanting to give up, to surrender even. Pressure was on him; _move, move, move;_ scenes and faces passed blurredly fast, many gone forever and Luke had a tremendous feeling he'd left something undone, that there was a task incomplete.

And Han was in as much a hurry as the base, and Luke was barely able to watch him go, let alone ask him to stay. He lay down on his back and looked up at the sky. The trees, so tall, were swaying in the wind, and the clouds past them were racing, like they were evacuating too. It made him incredibly queasy. He closed his eyes, hearing his pulse in his ears and concentrated on that.

"Luke? Hey, kid. Wake up."

Han's voice broke past Luke's pulse, past wherever he had drifted to. _Ben?_ "I'm not asleep," he said.

"When you're done doing whatever you're doing then, since that's not sleeping," Han allowed wryly, and Luke could tell without looking that Han's eyes would contain that irony, that mischief, "you need to crawl off. You're in the way."

Trees and clouds, and height...leaves so high, growing in threes, copper veins radiating off a central spine, edges like a knife. _It's call serrated,_ Ben's voice was smiling. _Well done, Luke._

With a start, Luke sat up. "Ben!" he shouted.

Han squatted by his side, the irony gone." You okay?"

Luke rubbed a hand through his hair. "Yeah...I think I was Forcing."

"Forcing?" Han was holding Luke's flight suit, neatly folded. _He is kicking me off the ship._ He'd exchanged his flight suit for an outfit of Han's aboard the _Falcon_ for the Medal Ceremony yesterday. His desert garb was somewhere in the temple used for base housing, and where that was he'd waste a lot of time walking, trying to find it. Probably best to let it go.

"I was up there, in the trees. I saw the leaves, everything."

"You mean these?" Han picked up a twig from the ground. Growing off the edge were three leaves with rough edges, segmented in triangular portions by copper colored veins that ran off a center spoke. Had he seen them when he sat down? Had the leaves entered his subconscious and he'd dreamed them? Luke craned his neck upward. The sensation of height, though...

And he felt better. He actually could look and not squint with effort, his headache was manageable, the thought of bread actually sounded helpful rather than dangerous. "Was I here long?"

"Coupla minutes."

"I feel a little better."

"Good. Pain pill must have kicked in."

"Are you -" Luke suddenly remembered Chewbacca stowing cargo, and here was Han with another load. He must be helping with the evacuation. He scanned Han's clothing, looking for the ID badge Luke was issued after enlistment. "What are you doing?"

"Oh," Han actually looked a little sheepish and put a hand to the back of his head. "I'm snagging their perishables, since they'll be leaving it all behind anyway. Chewie and I get tired of rations."

Luke nodded, his hopefulness quashed. So he wasn't helping in the evacuation. He should have known better. Han was...scavenging.

He wasn't exactly disappointed that Han was going to leave. He expected that, really. Han had been saying as much since they left the Death Star. What disappointed him was Han's readiness to leave. And the way Han was leaving, like picking over a corpse. Even if Luke hadn't joined the Rebellion, he didn't think he would leave Leia, or Han either for that matter, if the boot was on the other foot. He just wouldn't be able to.

 _Even if I had something to go home to,_ Luke thought. If, somehow, he found his way to the Rebellion, by accident, like he had, he would shrug off his desert poncho and trade it for a flight suit. If Owen and Beru weren't dead, if the moisture farm waited for him, which, yes, Jawas would make off with equipment, but it would be waiting for him; if they weren't dead, and the farm was waiting, he would still be here. His overly loud heart beat confirmed it. He would find a way to tell his aunt and uncle - send a letter somehow -

 _Dear Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru,_

 _I want you to know I'm safe. I haven't run away, please know that. But circumstances and events happened where I found there are things more important. I don't expect you to understand. I'll explain when I see you. I'll come home when I can._

 _Love, Luke_

Luke thought, _Han doesn't have anywhere to return to_. _Except the ship, which goes everywhere and nowhere._ _So he's going nowhere, and I'm going to the new base._

"I suppose I'm taking the X-wing," Luke said.

"No need to stow it when you can fly it," Han agreed. "I don't envy you." He gave a mock shudder. "Hyperspace in an X-wing. Hope it's not a long trip. You'll be making good use of that flight suit."

True enough. Now that Luke thought about it, he'd much rather go on a transport. X-wings were for short range flights and battles. They were armed, shielded; designed to be manned a few hours. Always zero gravity, the airless vacuum of space. Any longer and the flight suit's filtration systems would need to be activated. Carbon dioxide converted back into oxygen, a rhythmic contracting of the fabric to stimulate muscles and blood flow, bodily wastes separated to either be removed or recycled to keep the pilot hydrated.

"When are you leaving?" Luke would need to check in and receive his own orders. There was probably a lot he had to do.

"Soon as I can, kid. They're estimating the Empire will be down here in about eighteen hours, but I want to be away long before that."

"But," Luke sputtered. "Can't you – I'm not -" Luke would tell Han the reason why, if he could be sure Han wouldn't be such a jerk about it. He wanted time, more time than an evacuation provided for. He wanted to be able to say _thank you_ , and _take care_ , and _good luck_ , and...and _I'll think about you, sometimes, when I'm living my life. I'll remember my extraordinary adventure, and I'll wonder how you're doing._ Somehow evoke a sense that the smuggler had started to matter to him. But it was bordering very close to sentimentality, and instinctively Luke recognized that was a sure way to drive Han away, so he made an excuse. "I need to be sure I cleaned everything out on the _Falcon."_

Han looked at him oddly, but for once his face lacked the playful irony. "Sure, kid."

"I still don't see how you can just pick up where you left off," Luke dared venture to say. Some feeling was working its way to the surface. It swelled a little when he thought of Han leaving him alone, one thing he'd managed to hold on to since this started, one person, still alive. Sadness. That's what it was. His holomessage had turned into a flesh and blood princess, and that was wonderful, but he'd lost Ben, and his dreams of becoming a Jedi.

And his sadness was a double edged sword. Han made him sad. That this man, in whom Luke had seen glimpses of great quality, just flashes really, like they way the sunlight made it's way through the leaves here, this man was going to carry on like nothing was any different. His flashes would not dim, but he would darken. It was sad. It was a waste. Such potential, such heart. If Han had seen flashes of quality in Luke, and surely he saw the quality of the Princess, who shone like a constant beacon, it hadn't mattered.

"Easy enough," Han shrugged. "I've got to make a living."

"But you're an outlaw. It's not a proper living. You could stay here; have a place to eat and sleep." _I sound like Uncle Owen._

 _And what's wrong with that? Every word is true._

"I've tried proper living. And I provide for myself. I don't need anyone giving me a bed."

Luke wanted to ask what kind of proper living Han had attempted. He had a feeling his own view and Han's would differ. On the Death Star, when he was on his own, fighting his own way, he hadn't judged Han's questionable skills at all, but appreciated them. Maybe Han was thinking about his time in service to the Empire, the Imperial Navy. That was not a proper living to anyone here. The concept of law, of right and wrong, was a very shaded area, he realized.

He decided to cut the smuggler some slack. He said, "I've only known you a few days, but I think it's going to be weird not knowing you here."

Han patted him on the shoulder. "I do get under people's skin."

Luke laughed outright. "I guess I associate you with all this. Everything that's happened, you've been there."

"You'll get used to it."

"Will you stay in touch?"

Han squirmed and looked uncomfortable. "Kid...I'll look for you on the holos. Red 5. Just don't name me when they interview you for your life story. I like to be anonymous."

Luke pictured himself, in his story-telling chair, surrounded by his young descendants. _Ancestor Luke, what happened to the smuggler?_ "What about your life story?" Luke asked. "How will I know how yours pans out?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Shit, Han," Luke swore in anger. "What the hells is wrong with you? Why wouldn't I want to know? You can leave because you get shot at everyday? Because coming close to dying is no longer a big deal to you? Well, it is to me. How can this not have had any effect on you? We rescued a Princess! And you're just going to fly off like it's no big deal?"

Han shrugged. "No big deal, kid."

"It is to me," Luke repeated. "You were, you were," he sputtered, emotions taking hold and rendering him inarticulate. "You were my door. Or whatever. You know what I mean," he said angrily as Han looked like he was going to make fun of him. "I passed through into something new, and you were there. Led me through, passed with me. You think I'm just going to forget?"

"So don't forget if you want to. Doesn't mean I got to hold your hand the rest of your life."

Oh, he made Luke so mad. Condescension, indifference, inconsequence...what a bastard. "Fuck you, Han. Just fuck yourself." He snatched the flight suit out of Han's hands and turned his back. "I'll tell the history books what an ass you are."

 _What a greedy, arrogant, apathetic ass,_ Luke continued to fume as he stomped through the soft earth, his headache returning in full. _He didn't change one godsdamned iota. I learned so much. So much._

He found a large but empty room and started to shed the spacer's clothing. His privacy was not guaranteed, but he was so mad he wasn't even seeing straight and he didn't care.

It was Leia. Leia had changed him. _I love her._ He zipped up the final panel on the trousers and felt amazement. It was the first time he had ever consciously considered love, the first time he had uttered the phrase. He loved his aunt and uncle, sure. But the love never felt constant. It was overlaid with irritation, frustration.

 _Those are the effects of togetherness,_ Ben said. _Ultimately, they all stem from love._

Luke listened carefully to Ben's wisdom and applied it to his life on Tatooine. His uncle could be a pain in the neck, but while he nagged and pushed, he did also provide for Luke, and care for him, and worry about him.

And this love wasn't the same as Beru's for Owen, and vice versa. The secret looks, the lingering hugs, the routine of greeting each other with a kiss in the morning. Luke's love for Leia was a constant current. What he had seen of her so far, what he knew of her - the resolve, the strength, the idealism, even not eating enough - they all summed up love. It didn't irritate him she let her sandwich get stale when he believed in gobbling it up in as few bites as possible.

 _Give it time,_ Owen predicted.

 _You're enamored of her,_ Beru corrected Luke. _You idolize her. That is love taken too far._

Luke nodded, picking up Han's borrowed pants and shirt. He'd like to drop them in a waste receptacle, he was so angry, but he was also too angry to return them to him. Anyway, there wasn't a waste receptacle in here, so he just tidily folded them and left them in the corner. _I'll leave them to the Empire._

He granted that his aunt could be right. Idolize was perhaps a better description of his feeling for Leia. But it was still love. He worried about her, fretted, wanted her to be whole, healthy. He couldn't imagine his life without her. Yes, he put her on a pedestal - everyone did -

Except Han.

 _What do you think of her?_

 _I'm trying not to, kid._

Trying.

Luke left the room and wandered back into the open area, kind of like an atrium, and paused to get his bearings. There was a lot of activity, but the noise of steady conversation, a lot of voices, seemed to come from a room fifty paces to the right, so he headed there.

 _Damn you, Han,_ he thought, forgiving. _Liar._ The Princess had gotten to him too. _Well, good._ He'd been wondering if his friendship with Han had been severely misguided. Based on adrenaline and need and reliance. Once those factors were no longer necessary, there was no need for each other. Han's front. _Liar._

He glimpsed Leia at a table, through a crowd of personnel that stopped in front of her on the other side of the table, an uneaten tray of food in front of her, a data board to her right, a stylus in her hand. Chewbacca sat by her side, working on diminishing a huge pile of food on a tray, C-3PO stood behind her. The crowd in front of her moved in and away quickly, so they were probably discussing the evacuation; not making social calls.

Luke went to the food line and chose some bread, tea, and a pasty gruel that looked medicinally bland enough to calm his stomach and made his way to the table. Leia was sitting on the end, so he couldn't sit next to her, and the crowd gathered on the other side prohibited him from sitting across from her, so he took a spot next to Chewbacca.

"Good morning, Master Luke," C-3PO greeted him. "It is heartening to see you have risen without assistance. I was instructed to wake you if you had not made an appearance by 0900."`

Luke nodded into his gruel, feeling oddly patronized. "I'm up," he said.

Leia leaned across Chewbacca. "I'm glad Captain Solo didn't take off leaving you as part of his cargo."

Luke grinned dourly for her, not making eye contact. "He didn't. He gave me quite the rude awakening."

Chewbacca seemed to find that funny.

"Your partner is an idiot," Luke told him, and Chewbacca was definitely chuckling now. He warbled something.

"What did you say?" Luke gingerly tested the gruel.

C-3PO offered a translation. "Chewbacca says that although he has sworn a debt, he cannot protect Captain Solo from idiocy."

"Too bad, Chewbacca," Leia said.

Luke moved the gruel around his mouth, his expression pained. "What does he mean by that?" he asked C-3PO. "A debt." He decided there was a lot more to the Wookiee than what was on the surface and wished he could know him better. Chewbacca was eating hungrily, but with relish. His eyes were blue and gentle, and he wasn't perturbed at all that no one comprehended Shyriiwook while he spoke many languages.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand it either, Sir."

"Chewbacca, Han said something about Mos Eisley as maybe being his fault," Luke said. "Just before departure, when the stormtroopers opened fire on us. Remember? Do you know what he's talking about?"

The Wookiee made a noise, and Luke clearly understood the understated 'oh', the word that said Luke had opened a can of sand worms that Chewbacca was disinclined to discuss. It sounded something like 'skgrgra'.

"Apparently, Captain Solo had a run in with a bounty hunter," C-3PO translated.

Luke and Leia exchanged glances.

 _I told you,_ Uncle Owen stated knowingly. _A man in trouble is trouble. Let him go, Luke._

 _You mean like my desert garb? And his own clothing? Leave him to chance? I had trouble, Uncle Owen, and he helped me._

 _And we helped you, and look where that got Beru and me._

 _But that was when I was born,_ Luke countered. _I had nothing to do with the droids. Right?_

Silence.

 _Right?_

 _There's nothing you can do to help him. Bounty hunters are scum, Luke._

 _I know._ Bounty hunters were fairly common on Tatooine. None had ever come out to the farm, although there was one family Luke knew of that received a visit from a Hunter, one looking for a Hired that was on the run from Jabba the Hutt. Uncle Owen heard talk of their whereabouts, talk passing from visits to Mos Espa, from homestead to homestead, and he often cautioned Luke about them. Owen said to never aid them in their hunt, and never give them a reason to hunt.

Leia was working. To a man leaning on an elbow on the table she said, "You're on Transport 2. It's scheduled to leave in two and forty. We recommend collecting your things early and get them stowed, and check in with the captain."

Luke took another spoonful of gruel, and then dropped it, favoring bread. The gruel had an awful texture. Lumpy. He remarked to Leia, "Han said they're running behind schedule."

Leia nodded. "I know, I heard. How are you feeling, Luke?" Leia accepted a data chip from an attendee. "Transport 1," she told the woman. "You've been cleared," and made a mark with her stylus.

"Fine. What are you doing?" Luke asked. Leia seemed to be in a strange mood. She was purposeful, grim. Her eyes were frantic, darting desperately around, but she was also somehow cheerful. Glad to be doing something, Luke supposed.

"I'm assigning personnel to transports. Pilots check in with General Dodonna. X- and Y- Wings are escorts. And all are to get clearance from medical," Leia explained.

Luke sipped some tea, which went down well and seemed restorative. "Why?" he asked.

She looked at him darkly, as if this new policy was his fault. "We let the party get too out of hand last night. Some are still vomiting. Some have even been hooked up on IVs."

Suddenly the temple seemed to reverberate with noise, and Luke felt the bench under his legs tremble. A shadow passed over head, and for the first time Luke saw the sky light, a block of stone removed high up, revealing a patch of blue sky.

"Freighters have started to lift," Leia announced softly, her eyes to the skylight.

"Are you going to see Han off?" he asked her.

"He's seeing himself off," she responded cryptically. She put her head back to the data board, looking over the entered information.

Luke grunted into his tea. He had a feeling Leia knew Han was scavenging through Alliance discards. _Trying not to,_ he thought. Her, too. _Pair of liars._ "Did you fight with him, too?"

She looked at him in surprise. "What did you fight about?"

Luke sighed. "Oh, I don't know. Him, I guess. His very existence."

Leia smiled. "We fought about him picking through the leftovers of the things we're leaving behind."

"I guess you lost that fight," Luke observed. "He'd already loaded a couple of carts' worth when I saw him."

"I called him a buzzard," Leia said.

Luke grinned. "I called him an ass."

"I think he almost enjoys being insulted."

"Mm," Luke agreed, sipping more tea. "Makes it easier to leave."

Leia turned her head to him, her eyes wide in dawning realization. "You're right," she breathed wonderingly. She thought about it a while, huffing silently. "What's he afraid of?"

Luke shrugged. "Us, I guess."

Leia seemed to be enjoying Luke's insights. She smiled at him. "Friends can be terrifying," she said sardonically. "What's his story, do you know?"

"No," Luke shook his head. "Other than his name and occupation, and that he used to be in the Imperial Navy." He'd heard the other pilots refer to their Tie Fighter enemies as 'Imps', but Luke wasn't comfortable with that denigrating nickname on his tongue yet. He couldn't bring himself to call Han a 'former Imp'. He realized it was a method very similar to the one Han employed when he had to say farewell. It depersonalized. It allowed you to make a kill, to not think about the other pilot as a human being, someone with wishes and desires similar to your own.

"Both your backgrounds have been looked into," Leia told Luke. "He seems to have put a bit of effort into forging a lot of information that comes down. But, looking at Imperial records, which he can't hide, he told you the truth. He was a Lieutenant, but went through a court-martial for treason."

"Treason?" Luke was surprised. That was serious. Treason, to Luke, indicated forethought, a decision. Luke was also a traitor, but he felt that he became one due more to sequence of events rather than decision. "I wonder what he did."

At first he pictured a huge gesture, one of violence and self-sacrifice, but then he realized treason could be quiet. Biggs would have received a court-martial if the Empire had apprehended him after his defection. Still, Luke thought, it was a decision, and the gesture, while quiet, was still huge. "It's too bad Han's not coming with us. We could use someone like him."

"Well, he's not," Leia said baldly.

"You know," Luke turned his head, including Chewbacca in on what he had to say. "I'll miss you, Chewbacca. Not him so much, but you."

Chewbacca patted Luke on the arm, surprisingly lightly for one so large and strong, and said something. Luke looked at C-3PO expectantly.

"He says, Master Luke, that he will endeavor for Captain Solo to miss you, too."

Luke huffed in laughter. "I can't see that happening."

Leia looked thoughtfully at the Wookiee. "Chewbacca, I may have something that will help." She swiveled on the bench. "C-3PO, please bring me a chip from the file labeled 'communications'."

"Certainly, Your Highness."

"The Alliance has devised a communications system," Leia explained to Chewbacca, "a way for personnel to get in touch with family. There's a post box on Chandrila we hold. We send off from anywhere; galactic post is so convenient; but responses go there. Every sender addresses it to the fictional account - Liam Something - mail spelled backwards." Leia smiled sheepishly. "It's so obvious Imperial splicers overlook it every time. Anyway, a second file is included, and based on how they are told to answer, we know who to give it to. My name is Tiara Hareb. It's an anagram of my mother's name," she finished sadly.

"You want him to write? Is that it?" Luke asked. He shifted on his rump, excitement and gratitude for Leia flooding his body. This might even work. Han thought he wanted to go, and acted like an ass about it, but he'd tried leaving once already and failed. This way, he could leave, and still be here, sort of, and this way Luke could keep the smuggler in his life, but let him go at the same time. This was acceptable. A compromise. "Perfect," he said. "Do you think you can get him to do that, Chewbacca? Or maybe write yourself?"

Chewbacca answered, his head bobbing. At times Luke thought he sounded pleased and uncertain. But he also detected something that sounded like the tone Beru would adopt when she insisted Luke be responsible, like the time she made sure he sat down and wrote thank you cards he received for his birthday. Parental.

"He may be Captain, but you have some influence over him, don't you?" he remarked.

Chewbacca held up his arm, hand curled in a fist, and both Luke and Leia laughed. C-3PO returned, and Leia took a tiny data chip from him. The Wookiee opened his fist, revealing a huge, leathery palm, and Leia furtively placed the chip on it. Luke was strongly reminded of the image of Leia in the holomessage, inserting the plans in R2. She looked just as sneaky. And it was a good thing, because Luke could see Han coming towards them. He nudged Leia with his elbow. "Hurry up, he's coming."

"Just don't make it sound like it was our idea," Leia said quickly, "or he'll never do it." She reached for the data board she'd marked entries in earlier, and handed that to the droid. "Submit this to the transport officer in charge of rosters, please," she said loudly, so Han wouldn't think they'd been talking about him.

Chewbacca returned to his tray of food, acting nonchalant.

"Figures I'd find you still here," Han complained. "Haven't you had enough to eat yet? Come on, she's loaded. Time to go."

Chewie nodded, mouth full of food, and ruffled Luke and Leia's hair.

"Where are you off to, Captain?" Leia asked frostily, smoothing out her crown of braids.

Han eyed her, lips quirked, as if considering what to answer. "Back to Tatooine," he said. "Got some unfinished business."

"With a bounty hunter?" Luke asked sourly.

Han's eyes flicked accusingly to Chewie. "What are you tellin' them? The bounty hunter," Han stated, "is finished business."

"Is Chewbacca accompanying you?" Leia inquired.

"He's coming," Han answered tersely.

"I was under the impression he would like to stay," Leia said. "We have need for-"

"He's got to," Han said, his eyes darkening and a colder tone creeping into his voice.

Leia stood up and assumed what Luke had come to call her Argument Stance. "Maybe you could give him a choice, Captain. Maybe he'd like to try and make a difference instead of being a bottom feeder like yourself."

Luke glanced up at Chewbacca. He was listening intently, blue eyes amused, relaxed. He didn't seem to have any intention of interrupting or defending either himself or his captain.

"He's coming," Han reaffirmed, ignoring her invitation for an argument.

"If you're as hot a pilot as you seem to think you are, surely you can handle the _Falcon_ yourself."

"I am and I can, but that's not the reason. Ask him yourself, Sweetheart."

As if cued, Chewbacca now offered an explanation. He pointed back and forth between himself and Han.

Leia, her arms crossed over her chest, breathed heavily with resentment. "You know I don't understand him," she hissed at Han.

"Oh," Han snapped his fingers. "Too bad. Guess you'll have to learn Shyriiwook."

"Yes," Leia nodded, seething. "I intend to, Captain." She stepped closer to him, leaning in for emphasis. "And in the meantime I can assign my protocol droid as full time translator."

Han leaned forward from his hips so his face was closer to her level. "You're not sticking your royal Rebel nose in my business, Princess."

Luke watched the growing body language and rolled his eyes. "Leia," he said gently, "They're leaving."

The pair glared at each other while Chewie woofed in amusement. Luke shook his head. So Han was going back to Tatooine. The one with no home was going back to the place Luke had called home. He could return, he realized. Take another step, one in an entirely different direction. Was Fate offering him a choice? Could he see himself there again? An image rose, of his homestead, Beru's carefully tended greenery. It was a peaceful place, a home, but not Luke's peace. It made him restless. The image in his mind shifted to black smoke billowing out in a menacing cloud, two bodies not recognizable as the two who had provided a home for him all his life. What cruel slang term had the stormtroopers called his aunt and uncle before setting them ablaze?

 _Sand Suckers,_ Owen told him. _They called us Sand Suckers._

 _But Owen punched one, Luke,_ Beru informed him.

He shuddered. He didn't want to go back. He was afraid to. Death was there, a different kind of death than the kind that was here. That Death dared him to finish the job, leave his corpse on the sand. Something was wrong with that Death. It was cruel and unnatural. He'd much rather have the one he'd almost encountered in the space battle. A third image rose to mind.

"Biggs," Luke blurted.

Han's brows went up. "Biggs?"

"Yeah. Biggs." Luke swallowed. "He was a friend of mine from home. And a pilot here. He - one of those Ties got him yesterday."

"Oh -"

"Could you do something for me, Han?" Luke saw Han starting to squirm again.

 _You put him to work, Luke,_ Owen directed.

"Since you'll be on Tatooine. Could you tell his family?"

"Kid, I don't-"

"I'll write a letter. Please, Han. They should know."

 _They should,_ Beru agreed. _Thank you, Luke. It's a lovely thing to do._

 _Good people,_ Owen added.

"Just ride out, and give them a letter. Two hours of your time. I'll go write it now."

Han sighed in exasperation. "Bring it to the ship when you're ready," he snapped. "I'm starting preflight, Chewie," he said in a warning tone. "Five minutes." He turned to Leia and bowed facetiously. "Last chance, Your Highness."

"For what?" she scoffed at Han.

Luke patted Leia's arm. He whispered into her ear before leaving, "Give him something to think about."

She put up a palm to halt Han's response. "I am not going to fall for you. You and your crazy farewells," she added hastily. "I'd rather not have my last memory of you be me wanting to shoot you." She held her chin high and changed into her Princess voice. "I have one more award to bestow upon you, Captain. May it serve you well on your journey."

"Yeah?" Han said expectantly.

She grabbed his shoulders and brought his face down to kiss him on the cheek, then hugged him around his middle. Those still milling about the mess hall clapped.

Luke saw Han's face soften a little. "I could use money more, but what the hell." When Leia parted he kept one arm around her, rubbing her back. "It'll last a while."

"I'll be quick, Han," Luke called out, as Han turned to leave.

It was two weeks at the new base before Luke brought a letter to Leia.

 _Hey_

 _You see this is not a post card from that place with the sandy beach. I lost my ahem fee. Pirates. I don't want to talk about it. But I did what you asked, and visited your neighbors. They took me out to your place and shit, kid, why didn't you tell me? I took care of a couple of things out there for you._

 _Furball says grzzggkya. Tell Tiara it's her first lesson. I don't know how to spell it. Wookiees don't write. Ask that droid._

 _I forget what you call him._

 _HS_

Luke and Leia sat together, dissecting the letter.

"He sent a language lesson," Leia said, a gentle smile on her face. "And he needs money."

"He went to my home," Luke said, overwhelmed.

 _Did I read that right?_ Beru asked. _Luke, did he..._

 _I should have,_ Luke realized. He felt near tears. _I didn't. I fled. That's why I feel so incomplete._

"You know," Leia said, "when you don't have to talk to him, he's actually quite..."

 _Beautiful._ Beru was crying. _Generous._

"….likable," Leia finished.

"I would give him anything," Luke told her. "Anything. Anything that asshole wanted." He smiled in watery laughter, happy, sad, loved, bereft.

The stupid asshole had buried his aunt and uncle, and Luke would never see him again.

 _Oh, Ancestor Luke,_ his descendants whined, _I wish the smuggler was still in the story. He's fun to hear about._

 _We missed him, too, Ancestor Luke told them._


	7. Mace and Crown

It was almost their first fight. Almost, but Luke wouldn't let it go that far.

Leia had casually mentioned, almost by-the-by, that Luke tended to whine about things.

His mouth had dropped open and his brows come together, not in dismay but in shock. _What?!_ he'd wanted to say, but didn't dare, in case someone – _she_ \- might think it came out as a whine.

She was angling for a fight, it was clear. But then, Leia was always about the fight.

Luke looked at how bright her eyes were, the set of her jaw, and thought in dejection, _I can't do it._

This was Han's realm, to fight with Leia, in just one of her arenas. She was raised to be a fighter. She'd started young, in politics, which essentially was a war of words. Then she fought the Empire, and Luke thought, maybe it was a kind of sport now, she was so used to fighting, to pick on him.

No, that wasn't fair. She needed the fight to dispel the numbness, remind herself she was alive. And she needed someone who could give her that, someone who was sure enough with his own self that barbed words couldn't stick.

He read a half plea in her eyes. _Please,_ _Luke,_ _don't let me become a formality._ _Rescue me from myself._

She was untouchable. Everyone deferred to her, used her titles, never her name. Everyone was so careful around her; not that they thought she would break. To them she was mace and crown and stone.

Luke thought of the half-written letter left behind in his quarters he'd started to Han. Maybe he should pull it out, finish it. Maybe if he told Han _Leia doesn't have anyone to fight with_ he'd see it as a kind of distress signal, finally answer.

The tech comm had intercepted a transmission, the fortysomethingth one. Luke had stopped counting. All of the previous ones had been an invoice and request for payment, sent by one of the brokers the private owner of Calvunca used in the harvest of Sheltiv. It was probably going to be nothing, but it had to be taken seriously. The base was on alert, prepared for evacuation, and Luke and Wedge Antilles would take to their X-wings and patrol outside orbit, making sure the Empire had not found them.

All Luke had said, as he was issued his orders, in small complaint, was that he was going to miss his planned hike up the mountain, warranting that flip comment from Leia.

He'd answered with a petulant look, insulted, but didn't dare make a response. He loved her, but she was also a bit terrifying.

He never had equal footing with her. The instant they met she had won the upper hand with that short-for-a-stormtrooper comment. She could just shred him. _Maybe you could gather some wildflowers and present the Empire with a bouquet when you come down from your mountain and they won't shoot you._

Han was good at this; not Luke. Han had established an equal rapport right away when he suggested Leia return to her prison cell to await execution rather than suffer their rescue. _That's right, Princess,_ Luke imagined the smuggler retorting, _ever try catching flies with honey? Maybe we don't need this war._

He wouldn't mean a thing he said; never did, but it was enough to get her going.

It wasn't in Luke to fight. It never had been. All he could do to keep her warm and human and alive was to call her Leia and whine. He had his own problems. This was the best he could do.

Admittedly, it wasn't the first time he'd received such a comment. His uncle, his aunt; they'd all remarked one time or another that he whined about something.

He waited for them to spring to his defense. He'd grown so much these past eight months. They would know the difference.

There was silence.

He hadn't whined about their growing silence because he barely admitted to himself how it saddened him and perplexed him.

He had to look for them. _Beru? Owen?_

Mind you, he told himself, there were times when it was good not to hear their voices. Like when he was interacting with the crew, he would almost forget he carried their voices with him. And when the attentions of Talna, the pretty officer stationed in command became intently focused on him, and his on her, he thought he might die of embarrassment if Beru were to comment on the way they caught their hands in each other's hair, moaning breathlessly into each other's mouths, hands roaming everywhere.

They answered, if he called. But it was changing. When he first felt their presence, he held them tightly to him, guarding them jealously, needing them. They were a part of everything he did. Now, he could sense them drifting apart from him. His uncle didn't go on and on about the water here, the vast ocean, which he should do more than Luke did; his aunt no longer commented on friends he talked to. They were withdrawing from him, moving inward, to each other.

 _Face it, Luke,_ Owen said once. _You're alive and we're dead._

Maybe it was Han. What he had done for Luke on Tatooine, for them all. Put things to rest. Luke no longer felt so guilty and Owen and Beru were no longer the disconnected, shocked spirits. They still talked like they were alive though, and that was the hard part to understand. Didn't they still want to be a part of his life? Did he want them to leave entirely?

 _You're lucky, dear. You've had us this long. Look at your Princess. Everyone, and no one._

 _But you can't go entirely,_ Luke told them. _Stay away when I'm with Talna, but otherwise...I need you. You are what I've become._

And just what had he become, he wondered now, looking down on the blues and gray and black of Calvunca from the cockpit of his X-wing. His patrol partner, Wedge Antilles, was in formation beside him. They didn't talk; red alert status forbid comm chatter, and all was silent.

He'd expected more. Not from the planet, not from the Alliance. From himself, he supposed. He had reached his twentieth year, and felt good about it, was glad to put his nineteenth behind him.

He decelerated, coming up even on Wedge, who raised his thumbs to the sides of his helmet and wiggled his fingers. Luke grinned and waved. Han would have returned an obscene hand gesture, but Luke wasn't Han.

Idle thoughts of the smuggler drifted through his mind. Some in resentment, some in worry. Han hadn't answered the last four letters Luke had sent out. Perhaps the mail system the Alliance devised wasn't as efficient as he'd thought. Or, he thought bitterly, maybe Han was employing his loner facade, and didn't care to answer. It was also possible something had befallen the Corellian.

 _Been a long time since I heard from you,_ Luke had begun the letter. _Hope that means_ was all he he'd managed. He had added _good things,_ but after a moment's thought, deleted it.

It brought to mind things his aunt let him know she expected from him the day he grew up and he left home: a new job, buy a house, get married. The kinds of things he absolutely did not expect to hear from Han. What good thing could he hope for Han?

 _I hope that means you're not dead, or in jail._

He did sincerely hope that. He worried about the mention of the bounty hunter on Tatooine. And then there were the pirates Han encountered after he left them. He was probably lucky to be alive.

Was Han's life was always like that, on the verge of spiraling out of control, or was it just a string of bad luck. Luke found it exhausting.

Good things. The thought put Luke in a reflective mood. He really didn't see the kind of future for Han he thought for himself, or at least the kind of future his aunt had instilled in his thinking for himself, and he felt bad about that. Felt bad that Han was so on the fringe of society, of anyone attributing normal expectations, that Luke couldn't picture him settling down, living to a ripe old age, surrounded by his descendants, telling stories about the Farm Boy and the Princess. Instead Luke pictured him running, running; always on the run, until he slipped, and then he'd be gone.

The letter went unfinished because it was becoming difficult to maintain a one-sided conversation. _Seven months and no word._ What would he tell Han?

He would have to be careful about what he revealed, professionally and personally. _I'm doing pretty well here, if you'd ask, which you probably won't but I'll tell you anyway. My favorite color is still orange and I'm starting to look damn good in it, if I say so myself. It's become quite fashionable, which means there's a lot wearing it now, if you catch my drift, and I'm helping with everyone pulling their outfits together._

Luke had read the text over with pride, congratulating himself on his subtle use of the color of his flight suit to let Han know that he was settling in with his role of Alliance pilot, and that he was helping to train the new recruits.

His life as an Alliance pilot was full. And satisfying, without a doubt, he added. He flew patrol for a third of the planet's eighteen hour day. Nothing had ever happened, except the false alarms of these intercepted transmissions, but that was a good thing. When his shift was done, he worked alongside the mechanics, performing routine maintenance. After that he could be found in the sims room, conducting workshops with Wedge for all the new recruits. He had learned an enormous amount, not just in how to fly but in how to teach.

He and Wedge were the veterans, the old timers. Wedge still called him Boss. He was a Corellian, like Han. Though he was more respectful, Luke decided to call it, the accent was the same, and sometimes things he said seemed like they came straight out of Han's mouth.

They passed the four hour mark. Luke swung hard on one wing, signaling a return planet-side. "We've got an all clear," he finally established radio contact with command.

"Copy that. Alert status green," came the answer.

The base would relax, breathe a sigh of relief. Those off duty would unpack belongings. Some might venture down to the shore, go fishing or collect shells.

The planet was uninhabited, in use only a few weeks out of a year during the harvest season. There were a few large warehouses, but other than that it was a wild, windy, and open landscape.

Luke had discovered a spot on the mountain overlooking the ocean. It gave him a great view of the water while keeping him out of it. From this vantage point, he liked to train his macrobinoculars on the portion of the ocean where the water was crystal clear and a turquoise blue. This was where the Sheltiv swam.

The ocean, oh, it was incredible. He was in constant appreciation of it.

Once his pal Biggs had a distant off-worlder relative visit Tatooine, and the slightly older cousin had found the desert beautiful. She raved about the colors the suns burned into the desert, she gushed about how big the sky was, the way sand rippled in the wind. She took holo after holo. Biggs and Luke, stuck with taking her on a suns-set picnic, shrugged and had no idea what was so special. It was just home. Hot, sandy home.

Just watching the water roll forward and back reminded him of his landspeeder going over the desert on Tatooine. It was comforting. He could see the silhouettes of Sheltiv, dark shadows moving in the turquoise waters, rapid pulsing shapes of power and speed.

Sometimes, if he got lucky, a Sheltiv would breach, throwing itself out of the water, a high leap of turquoise and muscle and grace and power. If he had a holocamera, like Biggs' cousin, that's what he would take a picture of.

He and Wedge made their landing, and Luke walked off distractedly, not following Wedge, who offered to file the report.

"Luke!" Leia's voice called, clear and sharp, like being shot in the back. He hadn't seen her waiting for him.

"What is it?" she asked. "You look like you're followed by a cloud."

He gave her a wan smile. "I guess I have some things on my mind."

"You know, Luke," she began with her Princess voice, "There is explicit procedure. We cannot let our guard down for one single moment. Not one single thought."

It was a strange way of apologizing, but he accepted it. "I know," he answered. "I am very by the book here, really. I just had a plan for my downtime, that's all."

She hooked an arm in his elbow. "I don't leave for Duros until tomorrow," she said slyly.

He looked at her sideways. "I was thinking of whining about how little we've seen each other."

Leia was definitely one thing he had here, yet incompletely. He was lonely for her. His days were full and she had become a celebrity. Even if she had no real hand in an event, like the Rebel's success in destroying the Imperial Shipyard, or the Empires' siege at Vranta IV, her face was featured in the holonews. It was widely considered that she was now more dangerous to the Emperor than her father or Mon Mothma had ever been. She traveled extensively, making speeches, recruiting membership to the Alliance.

She laughed. She too had reached her twentieth year here, she a few weeks before him. While he put his nineteenth behind him, she couldn't. She held it before her, as if there was no going forward from it. Everything she did now had to answer for what had happened then. Luke was the only thing she was glad to bring from that time.

"Unless you have plans with Talna?" her head was cocked again, in a dare, but teasingly now.

Luke felt his cheeks color. "How do you know about that?" he asked.

She smiled. "Your bunk mate, Wedge Antilles."

Luke shook his head, red faced. He knew he loved Leia, but he wasn't sure what Talna was to him, or he to her, other than a very pleasant way to spend an evening. If the war ever ended, and they both were still here, then he'd think about it more.

All he knew was it was different than it was with Leia. Talna was a release. Leia put him together.

"Don't be embarrassed, Luke," Leia said sweetly. "This is supposed to happen. Life goes on, right?"

She had an odd expression on her face. _Alderaan,_ Luke thought. The planet, and everything it meant, was never far from Leia's mind, never far from anyone's, for that matter. In an ironic, painful way, the planet still existed. He would even say the strong winds that gusted relentlessly here were the voices of Alderaan, and Leia had brought them here, to the fight.

He'd been told the wind storm was an unusual phenomenon here. Never were the winds known to blow so hard, for so long. It was a quiet, warm wind, just moving the hair and flapping clothing. Only when it got caught under the foils of an X-wing, or trapped, circling around itself endlessly, did it shriek.

Everyone heard it, but not everyone knew what they were listening to. Han had heard the voice of Alderaan, Luke remembered, after the escape from the Death Star. _I've been thinking about it,_ he'd told them.

Leia heard it too, how could she not? She was its Princess. She couldn't hold the planet's voices like Luke held his aunt and uncle's. It was too big, too many. So she became like the wind, in constant motion, gusting in bursts of activity, haunting everyone, insistent, reminding, accusing.

It was difficult for her, he knew that. Her struggle between life and death, for life, making death, only added to her beauty. How can you find peace when you wage war?

He nodded solemnly. "Life goes on," he replied truthfully, though it made him sad, too. She only had war. Well, he could try and show her life. "Have you had a chance to see anything of this place besides command and launching pads?" he asked.

"Not really," Leia replied. "Just from space."

He picked up his pace, a destination now in sight. "Let's go find a Sheltiv," he suggested.

She waited outside his quarters while he shed the flight suit and donned the khaki Alliance uniform jacket, and packed a satchel containing his macrobinoculars.

He led her up the steep embankment. The wind was bracing, and their postures were stooped from the torso. Luke's lightsaber clunked against his thigh and he heard her breathing hard in exertion.

She wore her hair in a tidy coil of braids around her crown, but the wind plucked at it, and when he turned to look at her blinked in surprise, at the halo of wild tufts of her hair in all directions.

They came upon fibrous seed pods whipped into the air by the wind, and they hovered like little sun parasols, like drops of rain. He grabbed Leia's elbow, halting her, delighted, making her watch, and then the wind gusted, pushing them sideways, provoking them to continue on their way.

The wind would take their voices to the ocean, so they hiked in silence until Luke directed her around a large rock, spewed by an ancient volcano. "Here," he said loudly into her ear.

Leia walked to the edge of the bluff. There was still mountain above them, the landscape dotted with rocks and stubby shrubs or tall graceful grasses. The part of the mountain facing the ocean had been eroded gradually so that it was almost a vertical drop to the coast.

"It's beautiful," Leia gushed. They sat against the boulder, sheltered finally from the wind.

"Told you," Luke teased. "I wasn't whining when I said you needed to see it."

She nodded. "I forget sometimes."

"I know you do. Ever had Sheltiv?" He unpacked his macrobinoculars and handed them to her as they took a seat.

"It was a favorite of my aunt," she said wistfully, scanning the horizon with the glass.

"Really?" Luke asked. "What did it taste like?

"Tender, flaky, and refreshingly sour."

Luke mad a face, thinking he wasn't missing much, and Leia laughed at his expression. "I don't think I could eat one," he told her. "And not because of your wonderful expression," he teased. "They're just so beautiful."

"How will I know when one comes?"

"They swim in the bright blue. You know, it's special here, I think. It's….I don't know," Luke faltered. "Itself."

"Untainted, you mean."

"Maybe." He nodded, considering it. Tatooine had Jawas, and humans, and Tuskan Raiders, and always the desert lorded over them all. Here, there was ocean and ranges of extinct volcanoes, and he'd seen rodents scurrying about, eating foliage held in their clever paws, the Sheltiv, birds. It was like Calvunca the planet was no more than the life it harbored. Yavin had the jungle, but it had huge stone temples, too, making it seem like the place had a dual identity, one of occupation, one of habitation. This was a place of equality.

"What's been on your mind, Luke?" Leia asked, prompting him from something he mentioned earlier.

Luke sighed. "I don't know," he grumbled, to deflect what he indeed know. "We've been here eight months."

Leia nodded. "Yes. The harvest will be made in three, so we'll be gone by then."

He hadn't known that. "We will?"

"The arrangement was always meant to be temporary. The owner of Calvunca is leasing it to us until the harvest." Leia lowered the lenses and looked thoughtful. "He told Mon Mothma he's a gourmand and a humanitarian. That he mourns the loss of a people who appreciated his product."

"Wow," Luke grunted. "Nice to know some get moved to action."

Leia shrugged. "He probably mourns the loss in trade too."

"Cynic," Luke chided. "It doesn't feel like the war has changed much."

"What do you expect, Luke?" she was looking at him in surprise. "Actually, the Alliance has come quite far. At this point we can't afford to fight battle after battle. We're concentrating on building the fleet, building the forces, and gathering all members in one home base."

Luke nodded. "I don't know what I mean. There's something..." Was it the Force? This restlessness? _Wouldn't that be nice._ "It's me, I guess. I expected things and they haven't happened. It's me that hasn't changed much, then."

"Why do you say that? Look at you," Leia gestured out at the ocean, as if that reflected all things Luke. "You've not only become a great pilot, you've become a leader."

"I was excited to come here," Luke admitted. "That hasn't changed," he hastened to add. "But, on Yavin, the morning we left, there was something. A...moment. I think I felt the Force."

"How?"

"I was up in the trees. I had a bird's eye view. And when I got here, and saw all this nature...it's like there, only different. So wild. I thought I'd be able to do it again. Like I did when I made that shot, you know. Everything aligned, so perfect and slow. But now I'm thinking I was just drunk. I haven't managed anything here like what Ben taught me."

Leia was quiet a moment. "Have you been drunk since you've been here?"

He laughed. "No. You think that's what I need to do? Get drunk to feel the Force?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe. Maybe it's still too new for you. Maybe being drunk lowered you..r shields or something. You know?"

"Yeah," Luke bobbed his head in answer. He saw himself on the Falcon, blast shield helmet over his head. Listening, learning, seeing. Where the hells was Ben? He sat up, viciously straight. "I'm mad at Ben," he confessed.

"General Kenobi?"

"Yes!" It felt good to admit it. "He was there, with me, at the Battle. Guiding me. He's got the Force, so he's not completely dead. But he's left me all alone, with practically nothing. I don't know what to do!"

Ben was worse than his aunt or uncle. His voice was absent, missing, and Luke feared he'd lost him forever. The silence of his aunt and uncle was one thing, maybe even a healthy thing. It might mean he was coming out of a period of grief. But Ben's was much more than a voice. He didn't just talk, he guided, illuminated. The sudden lapse in communication was downright cruel.

Luke studied, went over the lessons of the Force Ben had shared in the one session aboard the Millennium Falcon in hopes of making contact. There hadn't been much time for instruction. Here on Calvunca he ignited his lightsaber and swung it about with his eyes closed, but he didn't have a target so he just felt foolish. He cast his mind over the ocean, seeking Sheltiv, looking not with his eyes but for their lives, and he couldn't find them.

He started to despair of ever learning the Force, of ever becoming a Jedi like his father had been. He yelled at Ben. _I know you're there! Help me finish what you started._

Silence.

"I don't know what to tell you, Luke," Leia said quietly.

"I know," he sulked. Then he nudged her with his elbow. One of the little rodents that lived up the mountain had come out of hiding, chewing a green leaf with a sideways motion of its mouth. "Do you know anything about the Jedi?" he asked her. "Did your father ever tell you anything?"

He'd consulted the holoarchives, looking for any information on them. Oddly, there was nothing that predated the Purge. He read an article listing the charges against the Jedi, basically what they purportedly had carried out on Palpatine, and him alone. Little about the Clone Wars, except that the Jedi, formerly peacekeepers, were now active on the battle field, in positions of power, and it ruined them. Interestingly enough, Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader were credited with ending the Clone Wars single-handedly.

Darth Vader.

Luke had stared at the name in print before him, his lips parted, trying to understand what he was reading. Darth Vader had helped end the war. That sounded, Luke couldn't deny it, like a helpful thing. And Darth Vader had hunted the Jedi, Luke's father included. An awful thing. Chilling and cold. Luke didn't care what the Jedi had done, to dispose of them like that made his blood run cold.

 _Tell me about my father,_ he requested of his aunt, uncle and Ben.

Silence.

She nodded, eyes distant. "Father knew him as Obi Wan Kenobi. He must have changed his name when he got to Tatooine."

But Luke was not interested in what happened after Tatooine. It was before. "What did he do?"

Leia glanced at him. "I'm not really sure, Luke. I was just a baby when the Wars ended; you, too. He was a general, and it was wartime, so I imagine he did what many of our generals do here."

"But what are the Jedi, exactly?"

Leia sighed and sat back against their sheltering boulder. "They had a temple, on Coruscant. For learning. They lived there, those that weren't stationed elsewhere. It's a beautiful building."

This surprised Luke. "It still stands?"

"Well, what's left of it. It was burned in the Purge. Or it was attacked. I'm not sure. The ruins still stand. It's Palpatine's monument."

"To what?"

"His triumph, of course," Leia was hollow and dry. "It's very haunting to see it. You fly around Imperial City and it's part of the sky line, the spires. It's not a typical monument, you know. Not a statue someone commissioned. It's not art. It was a real life thing, a real place. Now it's dead." She brought the macrobinoculars up to her eyes again, and Luke watched her. Her lips were a thin line.

"Another thing he killed," Luke affirmed quietly. "You're thinking about Alderaan."

She looked at him, eyes frank and scared and sad. "I always do."

"I wish I knew what to tell you about that." Luke thought again about finishing his letter to Han. If there was anyone to keep Leia from disappearing behind the mace and crown and stone, it was Han.

Something caught his eye. "Leia, look." He pointed over the ocean. "See that? The little moving cloud over the water? It's birds. They're coming," he couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "Sheltiv are coming." He stood up.

She stood up too, aiming at the cloud of birds in the distance with the marcrobinoculars. "How do you know?"

"It's how it always starts. They're a sign. I think the Sheltiv kick up other fish or something. The birds feed in their wake."

They stood in silence, watching. Luke heard Leia start to breathe more shallowly as the water started to roll and a black shadow split the bright blue water.

"There!" Luke pointed in a shout. But he didn't have to show her. The Sheltiv made themselves visible, one after the other leaping from their camouflaged water into the open sky. "It's a school!" Luke said in wonder. "A whole school. I haven't seen them like that."

It was a privilege, Luke thought, seeing such creatures. They were so confident, alive. They moved through life like they moved through water, the only thing they knew; strong bodies creating their own momentum, constant energy. Surging with wild abandon, flinging themselves up, into a moment where life was freedom, joy, grabbing a moment out of oneself, past the mundane. Instinct, motion, alertness. If it were possible, he wished all avoided the harvest.

"I almost expect them to whoop when they jump," he blurted. "Like Han whoops."

Leia laughed. "He is a bit like the fish," she said.

Luke thought of the coming harvest, of the fish that would never know the joy of leaping out of the water again. "They're both hunted," he said.

"Have you heard from him?"

"No," Luke griped. "Another thing I whine about. It's been months. Do you think we'd know if, you know, he got captured or shot down or something?"

"Chewbacca would tell us, I think," Leia said thoughtfully. "If he was able to."

"You mean if Han doesn't get him killed in the process," Luke countered darkly. "I yelled at him in a letter already about that. Maybe that's why he didn't answer. I told him to watch out for his partner."

 _I know,_ Luke remembered writing _. He's a grown..._ Luke refrained from writing Wookiee, thinking if anyone got hold of the letter, it was best to keep it as vague as possible. _...up, and it's his choice. Yours too. But have you ever considered doing something else? You can come work with us still, you know._

 _You're going to crumple this letter up and throw it away, aren't you? Ok, I'll stop. It's my aunt's fault, how she raised me. She always wanted to see good things happen for people,_ _and help it happen if she could_ _._

 _My uncle_ _would think_ _you've dug yourself a hole and you're not getting out. So I say again, you can hang out here, until things clear up for you._

He should thank Han for burying his aunt and uncle, but he couldn't bring himself to mention it. Han treated it so cavalierly, so naturally, like it was the only way to react, the most obvious way to behave. _You get up in the morning, you brush your teeth,_ he could imagine the smuggler explaining to him. _You see two corpses in a yard, you bury them. Simple._ He didn't expect thanks.

"I just don't understand him," Luke confessed. "Don't you think he'd be safer here with us?"

"The Rebellion isn't really safe," Leia said. "Not for me or you, either."

"But we're more careful about it."

"Well, sure. We can't afford to be reckless about it. We want to keep going."

Han wasn't careful with his own life, and he hadn't demonstrated much care for Luke or Leia's either, except for the times he hadn't cared enough about his own to save theirs.

He would die for them, or he would leave them. It was exactly that, that extreme, that contradiction, that he presented to Luke and Leia. He had done it, left them.

Luke felt suddenly gloomy. Maybe it was easier to see another's mortality that it was your own. _Han's in trouble,_ his instincts screamed. He sat back down. "How can a person be so willing to die for you, and also so willing to leave?"

Leia smiled. "I noticed it, too."

"Off and on, he's here," Luke said. "I hear him when Wedge talks, he whoops like a fish," both he and Leia started chuckling. Luke didn't say it out loud, but he thought how it was Han that caused his aunt and uncle to leave him. "I don't know. Maybe I miss him. I have this unfinished letter, and it's a running commentary on my life here. Maybe I just want him to see what I've become."

Leia nodded. "That's natural. We're all you've got. But, Luke, have you considered this? Maybe when you're thinking about him, you're using the Force?"

Luke frowned. "I'm not using it. Nothing is happening, nothing's changing."

"But that openness you feel, when you think of him. You're just feeling. Not putting any pressure on yourself. Out there, the ocean-"

 _Into a larger world…._

"-the vulnerability, the power of life."

 _I almost did feel something._ "Maybe."

This is what Luke wanted for Han: he wanted him to age, to be Ancestor Solo with the scar on the chin and gray in the hair. He wanted to see that same playful glint in his eyes when he leaned forward to talk to the many gathered around, a mischievous tone in his voice, _so what do you all think, Little Solos. Think a princess and a guy like me..."_

The room would erupt in jeers and nays and ayes and laughter, and Han, laughing in return, would say, _you'll figure that out for yourselves._

One last Sheltiv made its leap, large blue body slamming hard on its side, creating a big splash. "Whoo hoo!"Luke and Leia whooped, laughing. They watched the birds fly further on, like it was the end of a show. Then they came down from the mountain, Leia probably off to write a speech and fight a war, and Luke to go see if Talna was doing anything.


	8. The Art of Possession

He sat in the cockpit of the X-Wing, the hatch sealed, shutting out the noise and activity of the hangar.

Luke glanced around. From the cockpit his view was higher. He could see the techs moving about. He knew them all by name, but from up here they became a group, a mass. The tech assigned to his craft cast furtive glances upward to him, and Luke knew what he was thinking. Wedge had told him what they said. _Commander Skywalker's in his office._

It was partly true. Of course, this wasn't really an office. Then he wondered, his thoughts moving fluidly and randomly, what specifically is an office? He might ask C-3PO.

Maybe he could figure this out for himself. Leia had an office. It was furnished with a desk, had computer terminals, blank flimsis for her to write in and completed ones for her to read. She had a communications system, to relay messages to personnel on base as well as send coded transmissions offplanet. Her name was on the door.

Luke's X-Wing had none of these things. A cockpit was nothing like an office. Still, he liked to shut himself up in here, same as Leia shut herself off in her office.

An office was meant to be a quiet place, a place offering few distractions so a being could get some work done. Leia's was big enough she could hold meetings in hers.

But it was also a personal space, wasn't it? Everyone knew it as Princess Leia's office. Luke hadn't been in many others. He and Wedge shared one, but it was more of an old supply closet cleaned out. Wedge called it Red Squadron's Headquarters. There was only one chair, and a piece of furniture that was neither desk nor table. It might have been a dismantled chair seat. Everyone teased Luke and Wedge about their "HQ." It certainly was much smaller than any other ranking officer's could retreat to. It was more of an afterthought, as if the growth of the fighter pilot department, once almost completely decimated, took leaders by surprise, as much as the growth of the whole Alliance shocked them, rising out of the ashes of near defeat.

On the wall he and Wedge kept track of each pilot's flight hours and sim training schedules on a chart. Luke had a piece of volcanic rock from Calvunca, their former base, and Wedge had a picture of his family in a small frame and a deck of cards tossed under the chair-table. He told Luke he made sure to pack his family's holograph when he knew he was joining the Rebellion. So far he'd managed to bring it with him each time there was an evacuation.

Leia only had one personal item in her office that Luke could recall. Maybe there were things in the drawers he'd never seen, maybe even something like lip balm. But on the wall, put up with a nail, was a printout of the view of Alderaan as seen from space. It was just a printout; not a piece of art; nothing treasured protectively inside a glass frame. The paper edges were curling in the humidity and there were several crease marks marring its surface.

He wondered why she put up this particular view, of the one from space. There were thousands of holographs, millions possibly, in the archives. And she was Princess Leia – she could have put up a picture of the Organa palace at Aldera if she wanted.

That's what Luke would do, he decided, if it were that important to him to have a holo of Tatooine in his HQ. He wouldn't choose a moisture farm settlement. He'd want to see the desert, and the twin suns beginning their descent into the horizon, coloring the sand bronze.

He asked Wedge once, "If you were going to hang a holo of somewhere in Corellia, or something on Corellia, a place that was important to you, what would you choose?"

"That," Wedge gestured with his chin to the picture of his family.

Luke would choose the desert, and Leia chose to stay offplanet, to look at it from space. To see, not her home, or carefully landscaped lawns, or gardens or lakes or mountains, but the large sphere that was as Han remembered, blue, green and white and brown, with a spot, the Great Wind.

As far as he knew she never brought the printout with her in evacuations. She simply got a new one. Luke had guessed she was being practical. It would become even more worn, hastily packed or folded, perhaps torn. But she had mentioned to him it was her signature.

"I picture a Stormtrooper coming into my old office, all bare except for the picture of Alderaan, and it's like graffiti," she told him.

"Princess Leia was here?" Luke had smiled, liking the imagery very much.

"That, and 'you're next to die.'"

 _Wow,_ Luke had thought to himself about her grim message, realizing she was trying to haunt the Empire like she herself was haunted. The holo wasn't just of her home. It was what she saw in her last moments with her home planet.

The holo was why Leia spent so much time in her office, Luke thought. She had meetings and she traveled a great deal, but if she wasn't doing any of that, she was in her office. He could picture her, lifting her head from a speech she was writing, to gaze at the wall opposite her, and at the printout of Alderaan.

Luke had been promoted Commander a little over a month ago. Wedge had been offered it, but declined. "I call him Boss," he had explained to General Dodonna.

"What?" Dodonna had snapped.

"With all due respect, Sir. He's Boss," Wedge iterated. "The Boss, my Boss. He can't be under me when I call him Boss."

"Then learn to call him Lieutenant Commander," Dodonna suggested impatiently. Dodonna had selected Antilles merely out of tradition. Wedge had more hours, had been with the Alliance longer.

But Wedge declined the leadership role of Red Squadron. To Luke, there was little difference between him and Wedge. They'd flown so much together, they could almost read each other's mind. Sometimes Luke was Red Leader, but it just as often might be Wedge's designation. The pair shared a room, patrol shifts, training schedules. The pilots under them broke out in pretend stutters to General Dodonna when referring to their leaders. "C-c-c-co- Commander," their throats stuck on the first syllable, when really they meant how Luke and Wedge shared the leadership position, Co-Commander.

So Luke was a Commander in the Alliance. It was a job and it was war. It was like he'd answered a help wanted ad for an idealist. He worked for the Alliance, imparting policy and procedure and he got paid for it. He fought for them, embracing the concept of ending Imperial rule. It was a bit of a transition, going from enthusiastic soldier to leader, and he felt like he was still in training, though he received none. He watched the members of High Command and their leadership styles, deciding how best to get someone to do something for him.

Dodonna was impatient and a General through and through. He thought in numbers and coordinates and strategy. Luke figured he'd forgotten long ago what it was like to live like a soldier. The pilots under Luke accepted Dodonna's authority unequivocally, but they didn't really like him. Luke tried not to laugh at their imitation of him, expunging air forcefully through his nostrils, like a Tuscan Raider's Bantha.

Mon Mothma was not military. She was a Senator, and spoke thoughtfully. She often didn't have an answer right away, preferring to think things over in the privacy of an office. She left logistical operations of the base to others and focused more on policy and ideals. Red Squadron pilots held her in awe, but they had little contact with her.

Leia was a combination of the two, Senator and Commander, but also Princess. She carried herself with great composure, spoke with care and had an excellent head for logistics. She also was the one who learned names, thanked them for service, and felt each death not as a casualty, but as if the Alliance itself suffered a personal loss. Luke wouldn't have described her as well-loved exactly – she was too fierce for that- but his men did appreciate her service, and the high level of morale among the ranks was due to Leia.

Luke didn't shut himself away in his cockpit to get away from work or Wedge playing cards. He had another reason. He was an employee of the Alliance, sworn to uphold his duty to fight for the freedom of the galaxy, and he was a student of the Force. He saw the Force as a tool, a weapon even, in helping him bring about the goals of the Alliance.

He felt close to the Force up here, shut away in his cockpit. It was the first place he'd really felt it, used it. Ben's spirit was with him then, too, and it was doubly powerful compared with the flesh and blood man who told him to put a blast shield over his eyes and fight a remote.

Luke cast his eyes over the hangar floor again, enjoying the sight of techs bustling about, expanding his view. He unhitched his lightsaber from his belt and balanced it carefully on his thigh. He took a deep breath and listened to his exhale while he shut everything physical out.

There was the black of his lids, the slight wheeze of a nostril, his heart beat. Blood, moving through his veins, motion of molecules, oxygen, energy. Outside his body he traced what he knew of his cockpit with his mind. The display unit, steer stick, firing mechanism, his lightsaber, its weight palpable on his leg.

 _Roll,_ he told it. _Move._ On his pants leg, creases and folds. _Move._ The activation button on the far left, pointing west. _North. Give me north._ He strained, his brows furrowing. Leia... _pressure on yourself_...Han _great shot, kid..._ whooping...fish leaping; free, high, beautiful.

The weight on his leg shifted imperceptibly. He screwed one eye open. The button of the lightsaber was no longer at west. Not north, either, but heading there. Say west west north. He stared at in wonder.

It was only the second time he'd managed it, but the first time was yesterday. He wanted to take a holo of _it,_ tack it to the wall of HQ, stare at it. But a holo wouldn't show the movement and no one would believe him. That was okay, though. He didn't need anyone to know. It was enough for him.

He took another big breath, his heart thumping. So, if he sat in the cockpit, if he saw the thing he wanted to affect, if he thought about Leia telling him to relax, and about Han celebrating freedom and accomplishment, maybe he could do this again. But not now. He was two for two, and tempted to try again, but didn't want to push his luck.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Boss," Wedge Antilles' voice sounded mystified in the earpiece of Luke's helmet. "Is that-"

"I see her, Wedge," Luke answered, a lump in his throat. _Gods, but she still looked like a piece of junk.._

"Lookin' a little the worse for wear, huh?" Wedge commented, echoing Luke's thoughts.

"Yeah," Luke answered sadly. The _Millennium Falcon_ rested on a plateau some distance from the Alliance hangar. She looked even shabbier than Luke remembered, causing him to frown in concern. She was always in need of a paint job, and she had sported a few dents in the hull the very first time he saw her, but now there was an outright _hole._ She didn't look space worthy at all.

 _What's Han put you through?_ He wondered silently to the ship. It was odd, how he felt sorry for the ship but not for the captain.

He remembered, with perfect clarity, the moment he entered Docking Bay 94 and got his first eyeful of the _Millennium Falcon._ He had stopped in his tracks, fresh from selling his landspeeder to the Jawas, thinking of Uncle Owen, who would be disappointed in the trade, who was dead, and whom Luke was leaving far behind.

The sight of the freighter looming ahead of them had filled Luke with utter dismay. "What a piece of junk," he'd blurted uncensored, insulting Han.

Just what was it he was so upset about, Luke wondered now about himself. Truly, it was dismay, disappointment. Not worry; he didn't have reservations the ship wouldn't do what her Captain assured them she could do. He wasn't afraid to fly in her.

Han was proud of her. _You never heard of the Millennium Falcon?_ As if it were the ship that deserved the reputation and not her Captain.

Ah, that was it, Luke decided. If she had been Luke's ship, the _Falcon_ would have shone with his spit. She'd have had those dents hammered out, a custom paint job _KR 12_ shouting the Kessel Run record for all to see. Whatever a Kessel Run was.

Luke had a Skyhopper on Tatooine. He had treasured it. Saved money, worked extra for it. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru reluctantly supported his determination to own something he would work as hard at as his uncle worked at moisture farming. They thought it would teach him all kinds of things. More than anything, they wanted their nephew to understand the value of a credit, to develop a work ethic, become responsible. And it had, to a point. He spent hours cleaning and maintaining it without being told at all, though Uncle still had to nag to get him to clean the sand out of the labor droids joints. He scoured catalogs, dreaming of upgrades, looking for trades. He knew exactly what it would cost in fuel to navigate Beggar's Canyon one pass and set each earned credit aside to be able to fill the tank.

He wasn't mature enough to leave well enough alone, and although he heard the whine of over-strained engines in previous races, pushed her a bit too far and knocked her, and almost himself too, out of commission. Owen and Beru would have killed him if they found out. He had lied to them. Well, not lied. Omitted certain details. All they needed to know was that the firing pistons were fried; they needed to know nothing about how his friends almost had to scrape Luke's body from the canyon walls. Neither Beru nor Owen would front him the cash to fix her, so his Skyhopper sat idle, and, he thought, much like himself, sad, sore, and feeling neglected.

Still, he didn't want sand to get in and undo future performance just from atrophy, so she still gleamed and shone with polish and sweat and labor and pride. He worked on her every chance he got.

Beru had surprised him once with a model of his beloved Skyhopper when they finally agreed he could put his earnings toward one. The model was a pledge. A promise. She gave it to him as a reminder of a goal, and to remind herself and Owen that they couldn't go back on their word, no matter their misgivings. He kept it in the maintenance shed, and though he would tell anyone he was too old to play with toys, he would pick up the model and pretend it was the real thing, and he was flying it. It was always that, a promise. A promise from Beru, a promise to himself. Someday he'd leave, become a pilot.

He had expected to see something of the care and time he put into his Skyhopper when he entered Docking Bay 94. A ship whose owner poured heart and soul into her, kept her looking sharp, performing at peak. He hadn't expected to see a copilot's chair that was so oversized and mismatched for the cockpit there was barely room for anyone else. He hadn't expected to see wires hanging down out of ceiling panels, or tools that skittered loosely around in flight.

Han was proud of his ship but not the same way as Luke was of his. Luke would tell anyone, "I've got a T-16 Skyhopper." Han barely mentioned the model of his antique YT-1300, but he was quick to point out he installed a chair big enough to hold a Wookiee, that he had mounted quad cannons all by himself, that the ship functioned with three used droid processing units, and that sometimes you had to hit a spot with your elbow to get what you wanted to function.

And Luke had learned something, about appearances, and ownership, and pride, and self worth. The _Falcon_ was by no means a piece of junk. Luke had come to that conclusion after they entered hyperspace, and he felt the powerful engines hidden under the flooring through the soles of his shoes.

What had Leia said when she saw the _Falcon_ for the first time? "You came in that thing?" Luke smiled at the memory. Han had been insulted, again. Taken down a peg the first time by a Farm Boy who expected something shiny, and then a second time by the Princess, who really didn't seem surprised. It was a dig, but maybe it also was an acknowledgment of the risks Han and Luke undertook to rescue her.

Luke's Skyhopper did not mirror Luke. Her appearance – her polish, the smooth lines – they were a dream. How Luke wanted to be, how he wanted to be seen. _See this? I'm as great as this,_ when he was so far from it _._

The _Falcon_ did indeed reflect her owner. She wasn't tidy, she wasn't well groomed, things evidently did not come easy to either of them. _She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts,_ Han had defended his ship – and by extent, himself- to Luke.

So Han was back. Luke allowed a grin from the privacy of his helmet. Maybe his debts were clear. Maybe he finally surrendered to the idea of the Rebellion, and returned to fight for the Princess. Maybe- unlikely, but maybe- he was just visiting. Whatever the reason, it would be great to see him.

Luke wondered how Han had managed to locate them. It was not supposed to be easy. A freighter dropping in unannounced was not just unorthodox, it was probably downright alarming to those ensuring the base remained secure against outsiders.

"My view shield is coated," Wedge muttered. "These bugs are crazy."

"Mine, too," Luke answered. They'd arrived here only three weeks ago, and the breeding swarm of insects started four days ago. If it weren't for them, the location would have been a good choice. Located in the Outer Rim, under the control of a well-developed world system that had no love for the Empire, the Alliance was looking forward to a period of regrouping. The breeding swarm started four days ago, and was wreaking havoc on all the equipment. Not only did the insects get in places they shouldn't, they were fragile, with sticky, corrosive blood. They'd only just gotten here, but Luke was told Red Squadron would head to another location, even before construction was finished, as swarm season was said to last two months.

He wasn't sorry to leave. All he could see was the little black bodies and their maroon goo as his speed squashed them on the bubble canopy. "Do you see the directionals?" he asked Wedge.

"Yes, thank goodness for gel lights. I'd never get this bird landed."

Luke finished his landing sequence, bringing the X-Wing into the hangar. He looked around, almost expecting to see Han leaning on the wall, waiting for him. He took off his helmet and handed it to the tech.

"She's due for a rotation today, Sir," the tech informed him.

"Great," Luke answered. "I can come offer a hand-"

"Commander Skywalker," another greeted Luke on the hangar floor with a salute. "Orders, Sir,"

Luke took the offered flimsi. "-or maybe not," he told the tech with a rueful smile. They wanted him in a briefing room, now. _Han,_ something told him. "Have you seen our visitor?" he asked the junior officer.

"Yes, Sir," the man reported. "Got the whole base excited. He didn't cause a single alert. They brought him in under armed escort."

"Maybe the bugs caused a malfuntion," Luke observed.

"Far as I know everything was functioning, Sir. I'm sure they looked into that."

"Yeah. We didn't catch sight of him either, but we were probably on the other side of orbit." _Armed escort,_ Luke reflected. "Didn't they ID him, or hail the ship?"

"Yes, Sir, but by the time we caught him, if he'd been the Empire..."

Luke nodded. Leave it to Han to test the system. "Hey, Wedge," he called out to his patrol partner, waving the flimsi. "You get one of these?"

Wedge strode over to Luke and read the orders. Then he handed it back with a playfully dour shake of his head, "Ooh, Boss. See, this is why you're Commander and I'm not. Someone's in trouble."

"Not me," Luke laughed. "How can I be in trouble? I haven't done anything you haven't."

Wedge jerked a thumb outside the hangar. "Solo wouldn't come for anyone but you or the Princess, and he's trouble. Which by default means you are, too."

"Money," Luke said. "He'd come for money, too."

"You think the Alliance has that?"

Luke smiled. "We're getting paid regular now."

Wedge laughed. "Follow orders, son," he mock saluted. "I'll show up for training if you're not back."

"Thanks."

Luke paused before the briefing room, wishing it had a window or transparent door so he could see inside before entering. He knocked and was called to enter.

The first thing he saw was a table with four chairs, three occupied, facing the door. Leia sat in an end seat, next to her was Mon Mothma, and then General Dodonna. Luke raised his brows a little and Leia answered him similarly, her lids closing over her eyes slowly.

Han sat in a chair before the table. Luke only saw the back of his head, noted the length of his hair curling over his collar, and he had to remember to keep his Commander face.

Luke was having a memory, brought on all of a sudden by the sight of too-long hair over lincot fabric. He was a boy; sullen, pre-teen, in his room told to clean out his closet or he couldn't go to the party. The closet was littered with past school things: drawings, stories, worksheets. He tossed most of these flimsi sheets to the discard pile after only giving them a cursory glance, until he came upon one that was titled "My Pet Bantha." Adolescent Luke had smiled. His Bantha Phase, Uncle Owen had called it. Luke thought it would be cool, wonderful, fantastic, to have a Bantha.

To Luke it was an achievable dream, even though Beru and Owen kept pointing out the difficulties of Bantha ownership. For one, they were huge, requiring lots of land to roam. They were also carrion eaters, and already-dead meat wasn't readily available on a moisture farm. They were also beasts of burden of the violent Tuskan Raiders, and these sand people were not in the business of breeding and selling their domestic stock.

It lasted a little while, this Bantha Phase, long enough for Luke to draw picture after picture, to snuggle at night with a stuffed doll version of one Aunt Beru had sewn for him.

Adolescent Luke dug through the closet until he found the stuffed Bantha doll. He brought it out of the pile of things, slowly, apologetically, reverently. He pet it, smoothing the long silky hairs back, and whispering, "I remember you." And just like the years had never passed, Luke remembered his dream, that time and aging had let go, and he felt sad. Sad for the Bantha, that Beru had worked so hard on, and for himself, that a party was now more important than a dream.

Adolescent Luke brought the stuffed Bantha to Beru and she kept it at her bedside from then on.

Now Luke hesitated. Was he supposed to join them at the table? Something about Dodonna's glare told him no. They'd obviously not waited for him before starting the meeting. The arrangement of the table was drawing a definite line and he was not invited to cross.

Han turned around, a dangerous humor in his eyes. "Hi," he said, the first and only one to speak. He rose, grabbing the vacant chair next to Dodonna's and made a show of planting it beside his own, wiggling the legs so they lined up with his own chair, and gestured with his hand for Luke to take a seat.

"Here," he said. "You're on my side."

Luke shot Leia an uncertain glance and she inclined her head a bit at the empty seat. "I guess I am," he said in a low voice. He sat and rubbed his palms on his thighs.

His eyes met Han's. He had a feeling Han wasn't exactly welcome, and was still warmed by the memory of his toy pet. "Hi, Han," he returned Han's greeting. "Welcome back." He noticed that Leia smiled.

"That remains to be seen," Han answered. "What's this?" His finger flicked at the rank insignia pinned on Luke's chest.

How did it feel for Han, Luke wondered, to be back in a military setting. He glanced at him again sidelong. The Bloodstripes were yellow today. They were awarded by Corellia he'd learned, not the Imperial Navy. He wondered if they had anything to do with the charge of treason brought against him by the Empire. What a conflict that must have caused, not just for the young man who decided to commit treason, but for the world which decided to award the decision. "Commander," he muttered. "It was just me or Wedge," he explained.

Han turned his head to face the panel sitting at the table. "Good for you," he said.

Luke felt himself relax a little. He and Han had taken on the Empire together. Then they had gone separate ways; Luke to join the Alliance, and Han to...Luke wasn't sure. Smuggle, he supposed. But smuggling was in defiance of Imperial law, so in a way, Han and Luke were still fighting the Empire. They just had different methods. "Why'd you come in the way you did?" he whispered, and Han smiled.

"Commander Skywalker," General Dodonna snapped with his familiar impatience.

"Yes, Sir," Luke responded automatically. "'Cause you could have handled it differently, you know," he whispered again to Han.

"We are trying to asses the ease with which Captain Solo reached the Rebel Base," Dodonna said.

"It really wasn't that easy," Han broke in.

"I need to establish an answer to just one question I have for you, Skywalker. Have you been in communication with Captain Solo?" Dodonna asked.

"Well," Luke squirmed. "I used the Alliance mail drop system. But I wouldn't call unanswered letters communication." He turned to frown at Han. "I resent being under suspicion," he muttered to Han under his breath. "Did you even get them?"

"Is there the remotest possibility that you alluded to a base location, mentioned a planet, gave coordinates?"

"No, Sir," Luke said emphatically, anger rising. "I would never compromise the safety of the Base. That would be-"

"-stupid," Han asserted. "I told them you have no part in this."

Luke nodded at him, wondering exactly what 'this' was. "And anyway, I haven't used the mail in a few months." He glared at Han. "Did you at least read them?" Han smirked and lifted one shoulder in dismissal. "It's not funny, Han." Luke brought his eyes back to General Dodonna. "Not since Calvunca, Sir."

"Very well." Dodonna blew air out of his nostrils, reminding Luke of a Bantha, but not his stuffed one. His was a lot friendlier. "You may go, Skywalker."

"Yes, Sir." Luke rose slowly and headed towards the door.

"Your unctuous platitudes do not detract from the risk, in my mind," he heard Mon Mothma say.

"I was bein' polite," Han bristled. "Fine, I'll state it plain." But Luke had opened the door and couldn't pretend any longer that he was in the slow process of leaving without being accused of eavesdropping, so he let the door shut him off from the proceedings. He was curious, but patient. Han would probably tell him what this was all about without too many lies, and if he didn't, then Leia certainly would.

There was a third possibility, though, Luke realized. The main obstacle to chatting with Chewbacca was not sifting through the careful word choices of a blustering smuggler or superior Princess, but in language itself. He grabbed C-3PO from Command, whom Leia had updating all personnel rosters, and told him he wanted to seek the Wookiee out.

"I am afraid, Master Luke, that if First Mate Chewbacca remained behind with the _Millennium Falcon_ then I shall not be able to accompany you."

"Why not?" Luke asked. "It's not a far walk."

"It's those awful insects, Master Luke! I will malfunction for certain. The effect on my finish would be bad enough," the droid prattled on, "though I quite understand that is purely cosmetic from your point of view. However, I do have exposed wiring and if-"

Luke waved his hand. "Alright, never mind."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, sir. Perhaps if First Mate Chewbacca came here-"

"It's OK, 3PO," Luke said, not bothered in the least. "I"ll wait for Han and he can translate."

"But sir," C-3PO protested. "I am not certain Captain Solo understands Shyriiwook as well as a protocol droid. I have heard him make errors in his translations, though, to be honest, sir, it is quite possible he was doing it deliberately."

Luke smiled. "Is that so?" He'd gotten the same impression and he didn't know Shyriiwook at all.

"I think it best, if you wish for Captain Solo to voice a translation, that you let me provide corrections if need be, sir. I do not wish you to be misled."

Luke laughed. "It'll be good practice for Captain Solo."

Leia was the first one out of the meeting. Luke watched from his Red Squadron's HQ, updating flight logs. He couldn't see the door leading to Command slide open or closed, from where he sat, but he had a sense of movement in and out even with his head lowered, so when he spotted Leia she was just emerging. There was a slight change in lighting, or sound, that clued him in on her presence. It was hard to pinpoint how he knew; he just did. He put down his stylus and rose to follow her.

Her expression made him grin. She looked perplexed, furious, and troubled all at once.

"What's up with Han?" he asked her.

"What isn't?" she retorted. "I need to get something from my office. We're working a contract with him."

"A contract? What for?"

"Trust me, I'll word it very carefully," Leia said. "That man. Swoops down here- Dodonna's in an uproar because he got through the particle shielding- and he has the nerve to act like we need him when I think it's him that needs us."

"What'd he say?"

"All sorts of things," Leia was grumpy, slapping her code into her office panel and dropping a stack of flimsis on her desk. She bent over a file list. "Do you know, at one point he actually mentioned suing the Alliance for libel and lost wages? For marking the _Falcon_ to the Empire. Then he turns around and says he can get us all sorts of things - weapons, meds, intelligence even - through his contacts. How's he going to manage that on a marked ship?"

"Maybe he can," Luke offered. It seemed to hold a certain amount of sense. He'd gotten here, after all, thrown all protocols to the wind in the process.

Leia shook her head in exasperation. "I would think it pose some difficulties," she said dryly. "He told Mon Mothma he spoke High Basic. Said he would whisper unctuous platitudes in her ear."

"Oh, goodness," Luke laughed. "I noticed she was trying to talk above us."

"I thought she was going to hit him. Remember when I said he was like the Sheltiv?"

"Yeah?" Luke grinned. Their day together on the cliff of Calvunca watching for Sheltiv was one of his nicest memories, since he pulled from that to access the Force. "He's big and blue?"

Her look lacked humor but he laughed anyway. "I meant he's very fluid. Like them, the way they swim. And the way they jump, moving from one environment to the other. But if it sounded like a compliment I take it back. He's using us."

Luke shrugged. "Probably how he's managed to stay alive this long," he said seriously.

"Luke," Leia's large brown eyes probed his and she seemed to soften. "I think, he just needs a place to stay."

He watched her insert a blank into the flimsi copier. Then she brought the file up on a screen and began to fill out a form. He opened his mouth to speak, choosing his words carefully. "The Rebellion's been that for a lot of beings."

She nodded, busy. "I know. Me, for one."

"Me, too."

"So, is he joining then?"

She glowered at him. "No," she snapped. "He's retaining the right to come and go. Told Dodonna he can't wear a closed collar."

Luke laughed. "He might be telling the truth there."

She finally caved and responded with an understanding smile. "He wanted that wording in the contract." She shook her head and smiled again. "He can be so irreverent. About something so serious! The coming and going was a big point for Dodonna. He doesn't like risking the security."

"Yeah, but if he's running for the Alliance, he'll be coming and going anyway," Luke pointed out.

"Exactly," Leia agreed. "That's why," she finished filling out her form, "I am here, creating a contract. I need to get back. Han said to skip mess and come to the _Falcon_. That is something he agreed to: he's not authorized personnel to make use of mess, medical, equipment or fuel, unless it's for the Alliance."

Luke brightened. "I can think of a way I'll use him, if he's going to have to have real food."

"I might take advantage of that, too," Leia smiled back. "Come on."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chewbacca was glad to see them. Leia managed to side-skirt his attempt to rub her braids awry but Luke's hair got a good ruffling. It seemed the crew of the _Falcon_ employed that gesture to express affection often. While Han had done it twice that Luke remembered - once to Luke, when they returned to Yavin alive, and when Chewbacca emerged from the smuggling compartments where they all hid, Luke decided it was a Wookiee gesture.

They had eaten a good meal. Neither Han nor Chewbacca had gone to any special effort; it was things they had that needed eating before they spoiled. At least that's what Han told them. Luke pushed his plate away, content and relaxed, twirling his glass in a circle between his fingers.

He'd kept quiet during most of the meal, enjoying the fresh food and listening to Han and Leia explain their viewpoints of the meeting to Chewbacca.

"She actually said 'unctuous platitudes'," Han complained to his partner. "With Junior in the room!"

Dimly, Luke was aware he was being insulted. "I knew what she was saying," he protested.

Chewbacca intoned a question and Han answered, rubbing his thumb over his fingers rapidly. "Oily. Greasy. Oily flattery."

"That's about right," Leia agreed and Chewbacca made an answer. She looked questioningly at Han.

"I was not," he told the Wookiee. "A con," he turned to Leia. "He said I was probably running a con."

"That sounds right, too," Leia said with a smile.

"Nice," Han said.

"I have your first assignment, by the way," Leia murmured to Han. Her eyes flicked to the hooded jacket she wore to keep bugs out of her hair. "Didn't want to spoil your dinner with business."

"On the contrary," Han put in. "I find business very appetizing."

Chewbacca made an appreciative noise.

Luke burped and cupped his fist to his mouth to quiet it. "We should have him test shielding and radar, Leia," he said. "That should be his job."

"I know my way around things," Han said modestly.

"We're hurting for officers, Han," Luke said. "Look at me. Not a day of training and," he burped again, "Commander."

Leia was watching Han intently while Luke rambled on. "We've already had this discussion, haven't we Captain Solo?" she remarked.

"Captain is enough for me. I'll get confused with two ranks."

"Somehow I doubt that. What you were you in the Navy? Lieutenant?" Luke asked, trying to recall. "How old were you when you joined?"

Han took a drink, his eyes on the table. "Sixteen," he said quietly. "Same age most are when they go in."

"What were your reasons? I mean, the Bloodstripes are Corellian, but you joined the Empire. So were you, like," Luke hunted for a phrase, "patriotic?"

"Not really," Han answered.

"Galactic?" Luke pressed. "What am I trying to say? Did your allegiance lie more with your homeworld, or your government?"

Han was barely shaking his head, listening to Luke, eyes still distant, remembering a different time. "Nothin' like that. I just needed a place to sleep."

Luke found Leia's eyes. "Full circle, then," he said, alluding to their earlier conversation.

"Huh?" Han said. Chewbacca pushed on Han's head, not a ruffle, but a rough gesture of affection all the same. Luke watched the Wookiee's facial expressions, the way the eyes glittered with gratification, the way his head bobbed back and forth, as if he were assuring Han of something.

"Why isn't he Captain, Han?" Luke blurted. They'd all sipped on some kind of wine, and while he wasn't drunk, at least nothing like that awful party on Yavin, his lines of discretion were blurring. "Chewbacca seems like he should be Captain."

"'Cause I'm better at it," Han said over the Wookiee's loud laughter. "Shut up. Bossy is not the same as captain-ing. I want some more wine." He turned to Leia. "Am I flying out tomorrow?"

She shook her head, a slight smile on her lips.

"Then I'll have some more. You, kid? Princess?" He refilled all their glasses while Chewie left the table, carrying dinner plates.

Luke took a drink, and said thoughtfully. "So what happened, then? I remember you and Ben talking. He fought in the Clone Wars. What causes a veteran to resort to smuggling?"

Han waved at a coupling pair of bugs that managed to stray in while the ramp was down. "A lot can happen in a hundred years."

"That was more like twenty," Luke rejoined.

Chewie reappeared and placed a small flask in front of Luke. Leia sat up. "What is that?" she asked. She straightened, leaning over Luke's side to read the label. "Oh my stars!" she exclaimed, her eyes lifting to the Wookiee's. "Wherever did you find that?"

"'The purest water from Tatooinian farmers'," Luke read off the label. He looked in amazement at Chewie.

"There's this shop on Jekitha," Han explained. "The front room has all these obscure objects for sale."

"And the back room?" Leia asked. "Dare I ask?"

"Yes, you dare, Sweetheart. The front room is a front. Get it? He's a Melkivva, thinks he's hilarious. In the back room he does all sorts of black market deals. So while I was in the back, Chewie was shopping, and he found that," Han indicated the small bottle. "He likes to collect things."

"Did he collect you?" Luke asked, struggling to break the seal.

Han smiled slyly and exchanged a look with the Wookiee, who was laughing again. "You could say that."

"Want some?" Luke offered the water to Leia. "Try it."

"It's water," Han said.

"It's a big deal to me," Luke said. "Moisture farmed. Wish my Uncle could see this. He'd get a kick out of it."

"I'll have a sip," Leia answered. She placed the bottle gingerly to her lips. She swirled the liquid around her mouth, and swallowed, her eyes twinkling. Her eyes met Han's, and she couldn't help bursting out in laughter. "It's good," she declared, still laughing.

Han apparently found the laughter contagious and joined in with his own. "It's water," he repeated. He took the bottle from Leia and drank. "Water," he concluded after he swallowed. "Fine stuff."

"Chewie? Can I call you Chewie?" Luke wiped the top of the bottle off with his napkin. The Wookiee nodded yes to his name and no to the water, and Luke finished the rest of the water. "Wow," he said, and felt overwhelmed. He determined to place the empty flask with his piece of volcanic rock in his HQ, and with sadness thought how nice it would be to have his stuffed Bantha. Not that he played with toys. It used to be a toy, but it wasn't anymore. It was too bad he hadn't thought of it earlier, and asked Han to fetch it for him when the Darklighters brought Han out to his homestead. He smiled. It was a funny image, Han entering his aunt and uncle's bedroom, spying the doll and carrying it through the desert, back to the space port.

"What are you smiling about?" Leia asked.

He didn't need the model of his T-16 though. It wasn't the same as this bottle, his Bantha, even the volcanic rock. Those were all relics of things he'd been, places he'd gone. The Skyhopper was just a dream. It was meaningless now.

He suddenly understood why Chewie liked to collect things. "I don't know," he answered Leia honestly. "I think the water made me happy. Thanks, Chewie. That meant a lot."

Chewie warbled a response and Luke ducked his head out of the large paw trying to ruffle his hair. He looked at the laughing faces of his friends and wondered what else Chewie had amassed over the years. If the Wookiee had wrangled himself up a smuggler somehow, then it was time to add a Princess and a Farm Boy to the collection.


	9. Marking Time

Luke was interested in the refugees of Alderaan because he was interested in Leia.

He didn't consider himself a refugee, though he might be one. He wasn't clear on those points. He hadn't really lost his home, just the people who lived in it. If he stayed on Tatooine, he had no idea how he would get by. Age nineteen on Tatooine was considered an adult, and he had no other adults to consider as parental figures. He had the farm, but harvest money wouldn't come in for months. How would he eat? He would need money, and fast. He might have to sell the farm.

Jabba the Hutt would have smelled his desperation. Uncle Owen called him a soul eater. He would have come for Luke. He would offer Luke a loan, to be repaid at an exorbitant rate, and when, not if, Luke couldn't repay it, then Luke would belong to Jabba.

He wouldn't have lasted long at Jabba's, he had no doubt. Uncle Owen had told him stories of things he'd heard, of the violence, the slavery and drugs, of farmers that went in to Jabba's palace and never came out.

It was silly to think about it, when it was so far removed from reality, but Luke didn't want Jabba to have the farm, if it was even Luke's to sell. Probably it was. He was fairly certain, knowing the character of his uncle, that he and Beru had wills. It wouldn't surprise Luke to learn they made them the day after baby Luke arrived. And his uncle had been so careful to be free of Jabba's influence. He would be so disappointed in Luke.

It was a frightening thought, to think how his life might have turned. It was best, he realized now, the he had fled the planet, and he knew his aunt and uncle did not begrudge him that after their deaths. Best to let the desert have the farm than Jabba.

In any case, his refugee status was vastly different from any Alderaanian. It was inconceivable to think of Tatooine as not being there. He would still have his planet, where these people truly had absolutely nothing.

It had been very cleverly done, Luke thought, in a heartless and insidious way. A citizen of Alderaan who was offplanet at the time of the destruction might apply to a social services agency on whatever planet they found themselves stranded on for assistance. These agencies were departments of a world system, which in turn operated under Imperial funds, and so quietly, covertly, it was the Empire who quietly collected the refugees on Vrakith IV.

Luke had seen pictures of the refugees. The women reminded him of Leia, the way they styled their hair and talked. He didn't know much of the men, having only seen the Secretary of Security on Han's logs, but like the women they were dark-haired, with brown eyes. They were humans, like him, and probably they could have fit in any world they were in, but the point was, these humans were from Alderaan.

Holo footage showed them silent, waiting. Shocked, empty eyes held the camera's boldly. Vrakith IV was directed to hold the refugees in one area, so the Empire could keep its eye on them. The refugees applied for visas to leave and try and start their lives anew in a place of their choosing, but they were told there so many applications the system was flooded and it was going to be a long while. In truth no travel visas were issued.

Leia fretted at the treatment. The kind of assistance they got was to be housed in semi-permanent structures. They had to wait in long lines for food distribution twice a day. This took up most of their time, so there were no jobs to go to. No one wanted to lose their place in line.

To her heartbreak, Command would not sanction a visit by Leia to the camp. They said it was too dangerous and that it was a trap. She also was denied permission by Vrakith IV to tour the refugee camp and speak with Survivors, as the refugees were referred to by the media. She took Command's denial in stormy silence, but would not let the matter rest. She brought it before Command every month and pelted Vrakith IV with visa applications. Luke thought she held herself gracefully, as she always did. The one giveaway was her hands. She would lock her fingers around the ends of the other, and pull in opposite directions, like they were at war. She needed her people, Luke thought. They needed to be Survivors together.

She hated the moniker. "It's a misnomer," she fumed to Luke once when he stopped by her office. "How can there be a survivor of complete and utter destruction?"

There couldn't, Luke agreed. But he thought the galaxy was at least trying to show empathy. "They mean survived a disaster, I guess," he offered.

"Not even that," Leia scorned. "We weren't there. Didn't live through it. We shouldn't be called the Survivors. We're more like...the Absentees."

This was no doubt her special brand of humor, but something about it troubled Luke.

"What, exactly, is an absentee?" he discreetly asked C-3PO when he caught the droid alone.

"The term refers to a being who is expected to attend, but fails to appear, Master Luke. Did Captain Solo not show up for another briefing, sir?"

A part of him found that funny, as yes, Han's lack of appreciation for courtesy was a bone of contention among High Command, but the other part felt the tragedy of Leia's loss. _Life goes on_ she'd told him once. Han slept through meeting times and Leia was supposed to be present for her planet's death. The galaxy was a very messed up place right now, Luke thought.

Secretary of Security Carlist Rieekan was also a Survivor. He'd been attending an arms conference elsewhere when the Death Star blew up his homeplanet. When word got out about the numbers of Alderaanians on Vrakith IV, he arrived to soothe and comfort Survivors, but he was not allowed to leave, by order of the Empire. His captors were polite and denied he was being held hostage. They let him travel across Vrakith IV as much as he desired; he just could not board an interplanetary spaceship. He was allowed to talk to the media, but not about murder, or war; only the progressive efforts addressing the unique status of Alderaanians.

Alderaanian culture thrived in the refugee camp. They were all supposed to be dead, and they knew it, so they sang traditional songs while waiting in the food line. The men sat on the ground and built smaller versions of tapestry looms, weaving pictures of Alderaanian landmarks while the women held tapered sticks looped over with a delicate thread and worked a system of interlocking knots, creating a fabric unique to their homeworld. Musical instruments, toted in luggage by amateur players, were brought out at nightfall and the Survivor children were taught to dance.

But they were separated from their Princess, as she was from them. Luke watched her carefully. She longed for them, he could tell. They had music and stories and each other, and she had nothing. She was like a shell. Hard on the outside, protective, defensive. Only there wasn't much to protect anymore. It was drying up. Mace and stone.

"Han," he brought her up one day as he helped to repanel sections of the _Falcon's_ armoring. "What do you think about Leia?"

The panels overlapped from underneath, so he and Han were working in a crawl space of the maintenance area. Luke had gotten a close look at the damage to the armor, and thought Han and Chewie were very, very lucky.

Han, forced to bend low to reach the inner corner with the fuser, took any excuse to straighten his aching back. He gave Luke his signature look, the one that wanted to snort Luke's naivety away. "Didn't we have this discussion once already?"

"Not that. I'm talking about something else now."

"Alright, then. I think she works too hard, doesn't sleep or eat enough to be healthy, she needs to laugh more and not wear her hair in those buns anymore."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. It's not a good look. But other than that she's damn near perfect."

"She hates you."

Han smiled broadly before disappearing under the panel. "That's not hate. What do you think of her?"

"I think she needs…." Luke shrugged, looking out over the hangar where the _Falcon_ now had permission to dock. He agreed with everything Han had listed, though he didn't really have an opinion on her hair styles. "She needs life."

Han's head came back quickly. "A life? Or life? She's pretty lively, if you ask me. Just last night I got her going -"

"I don't mean that," Luke said hastily. Han did help, he acknowledged silently. No one offered a hand to lift her up from her quicksand of despair, but Han made her jump out, she got so angry at him. But it was always temporary, short lived. Then she willingly jumped back in. "Do you think, when this is over, she'd…. I don't know." Luke was uncomfortable even thinking it.

"Stand over here," Han directed him. "I'm getting ready to remove that faulty panel."

Luke walked underneath, putting a palm up on the section of panel. "That she'd...She's not depressed, would you say?'

"No."

"But I think she thinks she's dead. You know? So do you think she'd ever act on it? Make herself dead all the way? Do something, like, like suicide?" Luke winced at saying the word out loud.

Han was intent on the armor. "Not until this is over," he said.

Luke felt relief wash over him. So Han felt the same way. "We both think victory won't be enough. What do we do then, to give her a life ever after?"

"I'm working on it," Han said.

Luke's head made an involuntary jerk. "You are? What are you doing?"

"A life _happily_ ever after," Han said, pointing the fuser at Luke in emphasis. The flame's size increased with each jab. "I gotta get this portion out before I go any further. Hand me those." He closed the flame and set it down away from their work area.

Luke handed him the deriveters and watched Han work. When he was much younger he would sit with his uncle like this, and watch Owen as he fixed or built things. It was relaxing. "Who taught you all this?" Luke asked.

"Myself, mostly."

"We were pretty self sufficient on the farm, too," Luke chatted. "The desert is rough on mechanics. Always a lot of repairs to do." He collected the rivets that were beginning to fall to the freighter's hull. "It's not as hard to learn as some would think."

"No, just gotta have the tools and know what to do."

It seemed to relax Han, too, Luke thought. He wasn't hiding behind anything right now, there was no hidden agenda, no game to play. It was just repairs. Something was wrong, you identified it, and you fixed it. It might be complicated, but in essence it was very simple.

"This is what Leia needs," Luke said.

Han's face turned to him briefly and he looked amused. "Armor?"

She had that already, Luke thought. "Something to fix. Something simple. The war, what to do about Alderaan, and refugees, it's too complicated. There's no simple answer. That's what she needs: a simple answer."

"That's a tall order, Junior."

"I know. But it would help her have that ever after. That's what I want for her. I want her to have a happily ever after."

"You ready?" Han interrupted. "Get under this – hold it up as long as you can. I don't want it crashing through the decking."

Luke moved where Han wanted him to stand and placed his palms on the gray armor. It was cool to the touch.

"Watch it now. Here it comes."

Luke braced himself, both arms over his head, and Han did the same at the other end. His legs burned in the low squat he had to stand in. He was prepared for it to be heavy but it was more than he expected. He thought it was going to squash his head into his neck, and reflexively moved to protect himself. He turned one shoulder, letting the panel slope on his back, and one side crashed down, hitting the Falcon's deck plates. "Sorry -"

"S'okay. You're not a Wookiee."

"Could he hold this?"

Han toed the scuff mark the panel left on the decking. "Probably. He's tossed me across half an acre before."

Luke shook his head and laughed. "You're comparing weight to distance."

Han got to his knees and pulled on the edge of the armor, and Luke bent to help, pushing on his end. From this vantage point that hole was impressively large.

"What happened anyway?" Luke huffed, as Han scooted back and reached to pull again. "Was this damage from the pirates you mentioned?"

"No, they pulled me out of hyper. This was our friends the Empire. They were waiting for me when I took off from Tatooine."

"I forgot to ask about that. Did you get your debt settled?"

"No." Han's eyes dropped. "Bastard Hutt had a growth spurt or something. He's the one who tipped the Empire off."

"Hutt? You're in with Jabba the Hutt?" Luke passed his eyes worriedly over Han, as if he had missed the signs before.

You know about Jabba?" Han snorted.

"I'm from Tatooine, Han," Luke chided. "My uncle used to say you could see Jabba's slime on everything."

"Yeah, well," Han was out of breath now, too, but the panel was out. He relit the fuser to finish attaching the new portion. "Slime-covered or not, he passed out a lot of credits. We had a nice working relationship. No more, though."

"What happened to ruin your cushy gig?"

"I had to dump a shipment. Jabba wants his money. He keeps jackin' up the interest, which is why I haven't managed to pay him back. I had to shoot one of his bounty hunters, so that's on the bill, too."

Luke stared at Han in consternation. As much as Leia's upbringing was foreign to him, the life of a smuggler was, too. "The bounty hunter Chewie told us about? How much do you owe?"

Han's eyes were dark. "Him, and there's been one other. That I know about. There's no point in talking about owing. Jabba's pissed."

"That's why you came back." Luke wasn't asking. He had figured as much. He just didn't know it was because of Jabba the Hutt. "You're hiding from a Hutt."

"If I avoid him another eighty years or so maybe he'll have forgotten it."

"The war's not going to last eighty years. You're as bad off as Leia. When the war's over, your life gets worse. Nowhere to hide."

Han shrugged. "Don't worry about me. And about your princess - we're coming up on a year now, you realize that?"

"I know." It was coming up on a year for Luke also. It wasn't better, or easier, and really never would be. Only the way it was. It just didn't define him as much. _I'm grieving_ is how he would describe himself a year ago. He still thought of Beru and Owen daily, but it wasn't all he was. Now he would say, _I'm Luke Skywalker, and I've had a loss. "_ I wish we could do something for her. Something that would help mark what happened. Outside of the military, you know? The destruction meant their victory, but that's not where her head is going to be. She'll be thinking of Alderaan, not the victory. She'll be thinking of the Survivors."

Han looked thoughtful. "Might be something we can do."

"You really are working on it?" Luke was delighted and impressed.

"No, that's something else."

"She's your princess, too."

"She's everyone's," Han said darkly. "That's the problem. Anyway, just listen. They're sending me back to the Androd System."

"So?" Luke didn't see a connection.

"The Krethian System is a jump away. It's close."

"Krethian System?" Luke figured Han possessed a map of the galaxy in his head, whereas Luke followed coordinates and was told where he was going.

"You mentioned the refugees. That's where Vrakith IV is."

"Oh!" It hit Luke what Han was intimating. He started to snap his fingers in excitement.

"We could," Han continued in a sheepish mumble, "load up with some food, tell the officials we're a charity run for the camp, get the Princess out there."

"That's it," Luke was resolute. "Let's do it. We'll have to sneak her in. Vrakith IV won't let her come, and Command won't let her go. They think it's too dangerous. She'd be lucky to just be held. More like executed. And who knows what her presence would mean for the Secretary and the refugees."

"Only thing is," Han mentioned, "the Empire is all over that world. So, if we don't involve Command we're still going to have to involve someone. Like Red Squadron. I'd want an escort."

"Right." Luke had been so caught up in idea of the plans that it didn't occur to him he might not be able to actually accompany Leia. He flew X-Wings, not princesses. "I'll talk to Wedge. Consider it a done deal. When are you going?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Are you done here?"

Han laughed. "Slow down, Junior. You're frothing at the mouth."

"I need to rework the schedule. I'm supposed to have my down time tomorrow, but I'll set it for when you go so I can come with you."

Luke left the _Falcon,_ passing over the hidden floor compartments he, Ben, Han and Chewie had hidden themselves to smuggle themselves into the Death Star. Han had found it ironic, using them to smuggle himself, and Luke found a bit of the same irony now with his plans to smuggle the Princess of Alderaan to her people.

 _A year,_ Luke thought grimly. It was almost a year ago he fell in love with a holoimage. Leia had armor, growing thicker as time passed but Luke felt he'd shed himself. He left Mos Eisley wearing a farmer's poncho, and he shed it on the _Millennium Falcon_ to emerge a new Luke, one who was determined and heroic. The year had been tough, he reflected as he jogged to HQ, but he was glad he was who he was.

There were a lot of things to consider. Luke spent the afternoon in his HQ, holed up with Wedge and comming Han back and forth on what excuse the _Falcon_ would use to request an escort and come to land on Vrakith IV that wouldn't seem like abandoning Alliance policy. It would be very touchy, Luke thought. Han kept coming up with simple scenarios.

"I'll come up with some emergency," Han said unconcernedly. "It won't raise suspicions."

"Unfortunately for the _Falcon_ , that's true," Wedge noted.

Han had an answer for the fighter escort, too. "Emergency landing on Vrakith IV! What more reason do I need for an escort?" He told Luke how to set a new frequency on the comm of the X-Wing so they could talk ship-to-ship without being monitored by the Alliance, and he and Wedge tested it on the hangar floor. They decided Luke would fly on the _Falcon_ while Wedge and Red Three flew patrol, and Wedge would answer the call for escort, sending Red Three back to base.

"Would they go so far as to discharge us?" Luke wondered to Wedge the next day after a restless night of worrying. "If they see through us?"

Wedge pursed his lips, and sounding like a Corellian, said, "I wouldn't. They need us too bad. We're Reds One and Two."

"They could promote Three and Four."

"They won't."

The main issue was Leia. "You can't tell her," Han warned. "If it goes against Command she won't do it."

That was true. If Han held a map of the galaxy in his head, she held the complicated workings of the Alliance. Her training as a princess helped her see things from a galactic perspective, in big, sweeping ideals and goals, but she understood exactly too how the smallest role in the Alliance helped achieve the big. She wouldn't condone a procedural break in policy, not even for herself. Luke was anxious, bringing up small details over and over again, driving Han crazy.

"How are we going to get her to fly with you?" Luke wondered. "She won't touch you with a ten foot pole."

"Take away the pole, then," Han suggested.

"Are we kind of kidnapping her?"

"Will you relax, kid? E-mer-gen-cy landing," Han emphasized each syllable.

"What will we tell her?"

"Remember how you got me to help on the Death Star?"

"I promised you a reward."

"There you go. Just make sure you both are on board by 0500." Han seemed like he knew exactly what Luke could say and Luke wished he'd clue him in better. But Han shut off his comm and that was the end of the discussion.

Luke rubbed his face, fighting a feeling of panic. He looked outside his HQ's window. A few of his pilots were gearing up for patrol while others were using Wedge's deck of cards. Wedge was on a headset, bringing in the other patrol, and nothing about him looked untoward, like he had a secret no one else knew. Elsewhere, Leia was in her office, with no idea what he and Han were conspiring. How to bring her? kept repeating in his mind. How?

It had to be him. She would be suspicious of Han if he invited her along and she didn't know Wedge well enough. It wasn't Chewie's place to offer her a seat on the _Falcon_ for a mission run. The pressure of the success of his idea was getting to him. _There you go._ What did Han know? What was he supposed to say?

 _Too much pressure on yourself._ He heard Leia's gentle counsel. _Open yourself up._

 _OK, Leia. For you, I will open myself up._ Luke got off his chair and sat on the floor, his back to the window, so no one would notice him with his eyes closed. Ben had waved a hand and put thoughts in a trooper's head. The weak-minded could be influenced, he'd explained. No, that wouldn't do. Leia was not weak-minded.

He'd offered Han a reward. _There you go._ Leia had no need for a reward. What did Han mean?

Han was also not weak-minded. But what he'd offered, a reward, was something Han wanted. _There you go,_ he seemed to hear in confirmation, not Han's voice. Ben's?

Offer Leia something.

What? What could she want? She was a Princess. She had everything and nothing. And he didn't want to deliberately mislead her. It needed to come from him, be sincere, whatever he was offering, or she would see right through him.

He cast his mind back, to when she was only his Princess; not the galaxy's, not the war's. It was just him and her on a freighter. He thought she was just like him; they were the same. They watched the Visitor's Log from Alderaan and he told her about his aunt and uncle. And she took his grief.

What had Beru said? _No sense of self._

 _There you go._

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"Hi, Leia, you busy?" Luke popped his head in her office.

She looked up and had a smile for him that made him glad he knew her. "Hi, Luke. What's up?

"Oh, not much. I'm coming up on some down time. I used my Commander powers and I have two days in a row."

"Good for you," Leia smiled again, her head cocked playfully. "Going to go hiking?"

Luke smiled softly. "No, there's too many bugs. I would, otherwise."

Leia nodded thoughtfully. "And Talna was transferred."

"Yeah," Luke felt himself flush. "But that's alright. War is hell." Leia laughed and he felt himself grow nervous. "I've got something that wants done, though."

"Oh?"

"I had a poncho," fell out of Luke's mouth, not quite the introduction he'd planned, but it would do.

Leia's brows were up. "I'm sorry - a poncho?"

"Yeah. It's a Tatooinian cover. Everyone wore one. You could put it over your head when the sand blew, or wrap up in it to keep the sand off your skin. And at night after the suns set it was warm."

"Sounds very practical," Leia assured him, still obviously puzzled. "What doe-"

"You never saw me in it," Luke told her. "I was wearing it when I left Tatooine. But I took it off. I wasn't wearing it on the Death Star, before we changed into the stormtrooper uniforms. It's somewhere on the _Falcon._ Han said either Chewie put it away somewhere or it fell behind the lounge bench."

"I doubt it will take two days to find it."

Luke smiled. "No, when I find it, I'm going to space it."

"Space it?"

"Yes. I'm going to release it. I'm going to let it go. It's me, a part of me, I'm letting go. Han said I could come on his run. He's going to the Androd System, did you know? And on the way I'll," Luke nodded his head to himself. Now that it was out, spoken, he found he _did_ want to do this. "I'll...let it go."

Leia was rubbing the knuckles of one hand with her other. "Luke," she said in a pained, tight voice.

"It's okay," he told her. "It feels right. A step forward. Not that I need to - not that I want - It's going to be a year for us, you know."

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes cast down.

"I'd like you to be a part of it," he said. "I'm not sure where you are, how you're feeling, but remember I said someday I think I'll owe you everything?"

"Yes..."

He smiled sadly. "That day isn't here yet. But we're linked. You're part of me. Everything that's happened."

"Luke..."

"It's important somehow." Luke was no longer thinking about persuading Leia. If he failed to convince her to come, he would do it anyway. "Like a ceremony."

"You're marking time, is what you're doing," Leia said softly. "First, there's the first week you are alone. Then the second week begins, and you've lived through a First Day without them already, so you can do it again. Then a month passes, and you've had four First Days. But each birthday, holiday...each day that is new, where you don't have them, it takes your breath away, doesn't it? Sucks the life out of you. After a year passes, you'll have lived through everything once without them."

"I don't hear them anymore," Luke told her quietly. "My aunt and uncle. Remember I told you I would sort of talk to them, tell them what was happening with me? I don't hear them anymore."

"I'm sorry, Luke."

"I miss them. But you're right. During the Battle of Yavin I almost couldn't fly sometimes, it hit me so hard. But now," he chuckled, "now sometimes I can laugh. Like my aunt. I know exactly how she'd react to these bugs." He started laughing. "She'd be shrieking and running and waving her arms all over." He could picture her exactly, and it was sad and funny at the same time.

His eyes shone wet, but he was laughing. Leia was only crying. "I'd be honored to attend the spacing of your poncho," she smiled through her tears. "Luke." She got up and he went to her and they hugged fiercely and it took her a while to stop crying.

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Han caused a bit of a delay after he got the shipment destined for the Alliance.

"What about Luke?" Leia insisted. "This part of the trip is supposed to be for Luke."

"Nothing wrong with making it about you or me, too," Han rejoined.

Luke patted Leia's shoulder. "It's alright, Leia. All in good time."

"That's just it," Leia scowled. "We can't delay too long. If Command-"

"Relax, Your Worship," Han groused. "I took care of business, now it's pleasure."

"What could possibly be pleasurable here?" Leia was craning her head out the cockpit view at the industrial world. Luke prayed silently to himself that Chewie would approach from the other side of the ship with the load of food they were planning on bringing to Vrakith IV.

"Gotta look for the bright spots," Han advised with a playful wink directed in Luke's direction. "See that," he pointed to a tall smoke stack, and Luke could see he was squinting to read the lettering, "they make... toilets."

Luke rolled his eyes.

"You find pleasure in toilets?" Leia said sarcastically.

Han laughed. "As a matter of fact, I'm in the market for a new toilet. Got a bunch of extra passengers often now. It's putting an extra demand on the _Falcon_." Han patted the wall of his ship. "You wouldn't want that, would you, Highness, on a long trip, slogging through a mess in crew quarters..."

"I wouldn't let it get that far. I'd use the escape pods."

"Oh, that's," Han cringed a little. Then he thought about it. "That's actually probably brilliant. I like that." He beamed down at Leia. "Then we can jettison them off somewhere. Who should get our shit?"

"Palpatine," she responded swiftly with a straight face.

Luke and Han laughed, and Luke acted out the Emperor's reaction, and Leia didn't notice how long it took for Chewie to return.

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Chewie growled something at Han, who gave it light consideration. "Sure," he answered. "Why not."

"Time for what?" Leia asked.

Han spun in his captain's seat and looked at Leia in amazement, then at Luke, who returned his stare open-mouthed. The one thing he had never thought of in his careful consideration of the smuggling of Leia down to Vrakith IV was that she would be able to understand Shyriiwook.

"You didn't tell me you've been studying," Han accused Leia.

"I said I would," she responded defiantly. "I do everything I say."

"He didn't tell me you've been studying, either," Han's eyes were slits on her.

"Surely, that's not mutinous, Captain."

Han glared at Luke. "She had to be the Princess," he said.

Luke shook his head innocently. He had no idea what Han meant. "Not my fault."

"So is it time for what? Isn't that what he said?" Leia wanted to know, ignoring the two men.

"Uh, no," Han said. "Well, yeah. He meant to eat. That's what a Wookiee says when they're hungry. They have to eat often, you see. So, instead of 'I think I'll go have lunch' they say only, 'it's time', and that means they are going to eat."

Luke shook his head. He didn't think he'd ever heard Han say so much in one burst of conversation that it surely must look to Leia that he was making things up, but fortunately for both of them, an alarm sounded.

"What's that?" Leia asked sharply. The _Falcon_ wobbled dangerously and she gripped her arm rests.

Han returned his focus to the helm. "Stabilizers are out. This could get rough. You better strap in."

Leia shot Luke an alarmed glance and they went back to the lounge and pulled down the crash webbing. Luke's poncho was draped over the back of one of the seats, placed there carefully by Leia after they had scoured the lounge looking for it at takeoff. Chewie lumbered past them and he yowled something at Han, just as the ship was brought out of hyperspace.

"Of course you fell down," Han snapped back. "We've got no control how she's moving. Shut that door. I don't want Her Highness coming in here when I'm trying to do some real flying."

Luke blinked at Leia. "My stabilizers went out over Yavin. R2 managed to fix it. I was going everywhere. No control. It was scary."

Leia looked frightened and Luke knew he did, too. He also hadn't thought to ask Han what kind of emergency repairs he was going to create, but losing stabilizers did not seem like a good idea. Yes, it was an emergency, but Luke had assumed Han was going to fake it, or at least create an emergency that couldn't kill them. _Next time I plan something,_ he reminded himself, _I am leaving Han out of it._

The ship vibrated tremendously and they could hear Chewie yelling from the cockpit.

"Do you understand what he's saying now?" Luke asked Leia.

She shook her head, her eyes still large and her face pale. "Not really. I think he's cursing Han, but that doesn't make sense."

 _Oh, but it does,_ Luke thought.

"Luke, get back there and take a look," he heard Han shout. Relievedly, Luke wrestled out of his crash webbing and lurched to the back of the ship. He looked around and saw a flashing light over a lever. Making sure Leia wasn't behind him, he lifted the lever. The light stopped flashing. He ran back and opened the cockpit door and shouted in so Leia could hear him.

"I think I managed to patch it!"

"Good job, kid. I gotta bring her down. Sit tight."

Leia and Luke stared at each other while they listened to Han hail a port.

"He sounds so calming," Leia said. 'His voice. Like nothing is wrong."

Luke made no answer. They sat in silence until the ship settled and Han finally emerged from the cockpit, signalling they could unstrap.

"Where are we?" Leia asked.

"Vrakith IV," Han answered.

Leia looked stunned. "How...how did we get here? We were in the Androd System."

Han shrugged. "Must have been the stabilizers."

She looked back and forth from Han to Luke, who was wearing a broad smile.

Luke picked up his poncho. Leia seemed unable to speak or move. He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "We planned this," he told her. "The stabilizer part was a little too real, but it was planned."

"The refugee camp has a landing pad for visiting ships," Han said. "Convenient. And I wasn't shopping for toilets." He gestured between himself and Luke. "We brought food."

Leia was staring at Luke's poncho. "But," she said, her voice weak. "But - I don't understand."

"It's for your anniversary," Han said. He gestured down the ramp. "Don't tell Command."


	10. The Wake

Han palmed the ramp's opening and he, Leia and Luke stood mutely, watching the daylight of Vrakith IV climb into the ship, a bright line that cracked at the ceiling and expanded gradually, washing over the walls, their clothing, the floor. Then Luke had moved, not to lead the procession out of the _Falcon,_ but over to Han. It was a gesture for his Princess. He was impatient, filled with anticipation and curiosity about the refugees and the return of their Princess, but this was for Leia so it needed to be her first.

She turned her head towards Han, the rest of her still stunned motionless; the shock of realization still evident in her eyes. Luke had thought she would rush out of the ship once she learned their location and try and grab every single refugee in one hug. It's what he would do. But Leia had reacted completely differently.

She stood as if in a trance at the ramp but she did not let herself step off entirely yet.

Luke, standing next to Han, couldn't see much of what was outside, but he had a sense the arrival of a freighter was not uncommon or enough to break the routine. He heard snatches of conversation, the playful shriek of a couple of children, snippets of song. No one came to greet them.

"Why doesn't she go out there already?" Han said in Luke's ear.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "Maybe she's still trying to figure out how lack of stabilizers caused the ship to jump to another system."

Han grinned smugly. "Maybe I should give her a push."

"No, don't," Luke stopped Han from taking another step. "She needs to do this on her own."

Their hushed conversation seemed to bring Leia out of her trance. She turned her ear toward them, and said quietly over her shoulder, "This is really Vrakith IV."

Luke and Han confirmed it together.

"We're here," Leia said. "You brought me here."

"Right."

"And Command?"

So that was it, Luke thought. She was wrestling with herself. She was a member of the Rebel Alliance High Command, and she wasn't supposed to be here, but she was also the Princess of Alderaan, and she should be here.

How striking she was. Princess since birth; there was nothing Luke could say about that except it was the whim of fate; but Senator, Rebel leader. Traitor. She'd accomplished so much. She was already three times the person Luke could ever hope to be by the time they met.

Did her father know what he had done to her, Luke wondered. For she was not only at war with the Empire, she was at war with herself. He raised her to embody the values of Alderaan, which prized life and expression, and he taught her to take up arms, which introduced death and destruction.

Luke knew of Alderaan, a little, growing up on Tatooine. That it was a planet of culture and thought. In his child's mind it was a fable, for how could such a place exist? It had colors, and sound, beauty and peace. Some of the greatest thinkers in the galaxy had been produced by Alderaan.

Little Leia, Princess Leia, had grown up surrounded by luxury and beauty, both manufactured and natural. Her mother and father had led the planet into an era of peace and prosperity, but now she had nothing.

Gorgeous, gentle, graceful Leia had become a soldier.

"They know we're here," Han told her. "I sent a message about repairs."

"And Wedge is going to keep the Empire off us when we leave," Luke added.

Leia nodded softly. "Are they suspicious?"

"Command?" Han asked. "Probably. It's me."

She breathed out a smile though her face did not change from its awed expression. "So I can...I can fulfill my duty finally."

"Sure," Han said gently. "Go for it."

He and Luke followed Leia down the ramp and they stood, taking in the scene before them and blinking in the sunshine. Leia's head moved slowly over the panorama of the refugee camp. Luke took it in too, noting the crude blocks of permacrete that were unmortared in place, no door hung in openings, revealing row after row of bunks, like a barracks.

The weather, fortunately, was nice. Han wore only his vest, Leia her uniform tunic, and Luke felt warm in his poncho. The refugees were all outside; Luke could see only one or two bunks that had lumpy blankets, looking occupied. The ground looked like once upon a time it grew a green grass, but now only tufts of it remained; the grass had been worn away by constant trampling. There was song, and chatter. Alderaanians streamed from another permacrete structure in a thick line. Some stood, bouncing a child on their backs; but most were sitting. Their hands were not idle. They held music, flimsi novels, worked looms or threaded sticks. Children sketched in the dirt with their finger or a stick.

Leia left the ramp and walked to the edge of the landing pad, and knelt on one knee, her head bowed.

Han looked at Luke with a question. They both watched her, and when she didn't move for a few minutes, Han said, "What's she doing?"

"I don't know," Luke answered. "Fulfilling her duty?" he guessed.

Nobody sought out the captain of the vessel carrying food, and no one approached the Princess.

"She's not like any Princess I've ever heard of. Others would be smiling and waving," Han said.

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "She's different, alright. But they don't need smiles right now."

"Get their attention," Han muttered to Luke. "Show them who's here. I'm going to look for whoever is in charge of deliveries." He moved away, melting into the crowd, touching elbows, pointing to Leia. Luke did the same.

A young boy was digging a trench in the dirt with a stick. Luke knelt beside him. "Can I talk to you?" he asked.

The boy looked up at Luke. His eyes were huge and brown. "I guess," he shrugged.

"My name's Luke," he told the boy. "How are you doing here?"

The child went back to carving the dirt. "Alright, I guess."

"Is it hard to be here?" Luke wondered.

"Not really," the child shrugged again. "They're doing the best they can for us."

"That's a good attitude," Luke told the boy.

"I guess," was the answer.

"Do you know who that is?" Luke pointed out Leia, who had not moved from her position.

The boy stared. "No."

Luke wondered if he himself would have known if he was the boy's age. Certainly other things occupied a child's mind. "That's Princess Leia Organa."

"Princess Leia? The Princess?"

"Yes." Luke patted the boy's head and moved to a man. He looked troubled, restless, but his clothing seemed different, of a higher quality. "My name is Luke," he told the man.

The man stared at him. "You're not Alderaanian," he stated.

"No," Luke admitted. "I'm not."

The man nodded, passing a hand through thick dark hair. "There's nothing you can do. There's nothing anyone can do. There's no more Alderaan."

Luke pointed out Leia on the landing pad.

"It doesn't matter," the man said bitterly. "It's all gone. She's no more Alderaanian than I am."

"But she is," Luke said. "And you always will be."

"We have a vacation home. I'll be a Danderran as soon as they let us go."

"Good luck to you," Luke offered. He kept moving through the crowd, taking the time to say hello and introduce himself. There were less than a thousand refugees here, Luke estimated, really only a handful of what had been a population of close to a billion humans. He found it interesting, the different reactions of each person he encountered.

He wondered if Han was bothering to talk to the people as he was, or if Han was just pointing out Leia to them. Many didn't want to talk to Luke and eyed him suspiciously. Maybe it was his hair - it was lighter in color than anyone else's here. Han's was as dark as Leia's, maybe they accepted him more easily. Or perhaps the tragedy and subsequent treatment had developed a sense of mistrust in them.

He spied a young woman, young enough to just have put childhood behind her, and felt drawn to her. Close to the age he and Leia were a year ago. She had noticed Leia on her own. The fingers of her hands were intertwined, touching her lips softly. Tears streamed down her face.

"Are you alright?" Luke asked. She reminded him a lot of Leia the first time he saw her. The hair, arranged in two buns at the side of her head, a slight frame, radiating a powerful empathy coated with sadness.

The young woman acknowledged Luke with a nod but her eyes never left Leia's kneeling figure. "It's the Princess," she whispered.

Luke looked around. He noticed the people he had spoken to were all gathering at the edge of the landing pad, near Leia's kneeling form. Some seemed merely expectant; others, like the girl standing next to Luke, enthralled. "May I ask," Luke said in low undertones to the woman, trying not to call attention to his ignorance, "how long the Princess will stay like that?"

"Until we tell her to stand," came the answer.

Luke nodded politely, though he didn't understand her answer. Gradually song stopped. The food line dispersed as refugees lined the landing pad, and still Leia had not moved. He wanted to ask who would be the one to tell her to stand, and what it all signified. He knew he was witnessing something special. On Tatooine the moisture farmers definitely had a community, but nothing as structured or regimented as this. "Do you have anyone here with you?" he whispered.

"My parents." The young woman cast a glance back at her parents. "Who is with you?"

He wondered if she knew he was not Alderaanian. "My friend is around here somewhere," Luke said, unable to spot Han. "We're the ones who brought the Princess."

"She needs us," the girl said.

"Yes," Luke agreed. "That's why we came. And you her, I hope."

"Did you choose me?" she asked Luke.

"I," Luke hesitated, knowing somehow the answer was important. "I did," he realized. "I didn't have to tell you she was here, and that's what I've been doing, pointing her out to everyone else. You knew already but I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Thank you," she told Luke. She sent her parents a message with a look, and moved away from Luke, through the crowd. Luke followed her casually, and finally spotted Han, who stood near the ramp of the ship, about twenty paces away from Leia.

The girl slowly approached Leia, and standing in front of her, dropped on one knee.

"Princess Leia of the House of Organa," Luke barely heard her say. She was speaking to Leia, not the crowd, but everyone was listening and watching.

"We kneel before you as you kneel before us," the girl intoned.

The crowd answered as one, "We kneel before you."

It gave Luke chills. He sneaked a glance at Han and saw he felt it, too. Alderaan was here; alive, vibrant, never dead, ringing in the air; and he hoped Leia realized that too. Luke understood the ceremony, felt the ritual of this conversation at the base of his spine, like it was an instinct of living.

"I kneel before you," Leia answered, "as you kneel before me."

"We are one," the girl responded. "We are Alderaan."

"We are Alderaan," Leia answered, "We are one." And she stood.

"Shit," Han said.

Luke nodded. He would have said it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever witnessed, but Han meant the same thing.

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Leia had not even been reunited with her people for an hour when a speeder coursed into the camp, swerving hurriedly and throwing up a cloud of dry, dusty dirt. A man jumped out, eyes searching wildly around the crowd. Three others piled out of the speeder after him, looking tense and anxious.

Four people, Luke observed, two groups. One and three. He realized with a jolt of prideful pleasure at his own observational skills that he recognized the first man. He wasn't the same man as he had seen in Han's logs. Then, Secretary of Commerce Rieekan was seated, self-consciously listing Alderaan's laws and penalties in a gentle voice. He was not yet old but no longer young; possessing a confidence that came from living a comfortable and challenging life. Now, Luke could see Rieekan, now Alderaan's Secretary of Security, was tall and thin, his comfort from a self-assured life shattered, his hair prematurely gray.

The other three were not Alderaanians. In under an hour Luke had developed an instinct for who was Alderaanian and who was not. Many humans were dark-haired and dark-eyed, Han included, but something set the Alderaanians apart. Was it the tragedy, Luke wondered, or some inherent cultural identity? Both, probably, because the tragedy was unique to Alderaan. It was something they owned no other human could even pretend to begin to understand.

Luke tested himself, assessing the other three. He was sensing in himself an ability to read others, to be able to form, not an identity, but a sense of character. It was life, and it was speaking to him. His eyes were bright and he felt energized. This was the Force. A lesson he he got as a side benefit from being with Ben. Ben had toted him along when they entered the crowded Mos Eisley cantina, and Ben must have stood there a moment, reading all the life in the room with the Force. And then Ben had gravitated toward the big, kind, fierce Wookiee and wound up hiring the Corellian smuggler.

Luke took in the three who followed Rieekan warily. He decided they were Imperials. It wasn't all his intuition. If Luke told Han the Force told him the men were Imperials, Han would have snorted derisively, because the weapons the three carried were a dead giveaway. Blasters were holstered under their shoulders, bulging through their jackets.

Troopers, Luke saw with interest. The only other troopers he'd seen were in battle armor, encased completely in white. He remembered watching them march through the corridors of the Death Star. Faceless, anonymous and unanimous, eerily intimidating. Now that he could see faces, he found they were still a little intimidating. It was the hardness in the eyes, the responsibility of their mission in their posture. If Rieekan made one step out of line, he would be dispatched suddenly and unconscionably.

Three young men, in the prime of their lives. Healthy, inspired, heartless. Luke's eyes sought Han, once an Imperial Lieutenant. Had he looked like that? Han liked to pretend he was heartless, so maybe at one time he knew what it felt like. Han had the heart of a cynic, though, and that's what saved him from losing himself to the Empire entirely.

He had told Luke and Leia, _I needed a place to sleep_. Leia slept in a palace, Luke had a bed and a stuffed Bantha to sleep with, Han had- nothing? How long had he lived like that? Of the three of them, as much as Luke had complained and sighed and whined, Luke was willing to bet Han had the most hardship early in life.

Han could have turned out like any of this crowd, Luke thought. Han was a survivor of sorts, too; not of a large- scale disaster, but he had evidently been homeless. Early experiences were formative, the bad as much as the good. Luke had met angry people and self-pitying ones; ones that maintained an aspect of hope and ones that tried not to feel at all. Han was a kind of opportunist, Luke decided. He didn't accept fate or a given circumstance. He would tweak a situation until he found some benefit in it.

 _What am I like,_ Luke wondered. He put himself in the place of a refugee. How would he handle this tragedy? Han would do something like make and sell pillows and Luke would...what? Dig trenches in the dirt with a stick? He had been prone to gloom, he knew. His mind had always circled around fantasies of what could have been. What if his parents had lived? His life could have been so different, so much better. The whispers of his classmates, pointing out the orphan raised by his aunt and uncle, highlighted how he was different from them. Secretly, he'd never minded their pity, feeling he deserved it. He was always the hapless victim of circumstance.

Until he met Leia. He brought his gaze to her. She had taught him there was no such thing as apathy, as standing around thinking you were helpless to make a change. Uncle Owen had let him sulk as long as he eventually did something about it, but Leia refused to waste time on useless emotions. She taught him to act. Even now, she was tireless and infinite in compassion. She was doing her best to connect with every person in the camp.

It had been a serene scene. The crowd had drifted from the landing pad into the huge yard of the barracks house. They sat at tables, talking, crying, hugging, even eating their rations. This was familiar to Luke. When his classmate had died in the rock slide the moisture farming community had drawn together, a solid unit of support, grief and friendship. Leia's presence had achieved this. It was a form of closure, like having a body to bury. The people had their Alderaan, their Princess. They moved from shock and numbness. They could now begin to grieve.

 _I need to find the little boy,_ Luke resolved. The one who was unformed, noncommittal in his reaction. He started to move through the crowd again, keeping an eye on Leia, who was bent on one knee again before Secretary Rieekan, also on one knee, and on Han, who was glowering at the Imperials with a dark expression.

The little boy was still on his knees in the dirt, using the stick. He had softened up the dirt to a powdery texture, and was rolling the stick back and forth.

"Hi again," Luke said, kneeling beside him.

"Hi," the boy answered, without looking up.

"Look at all the little dents the stick makes," Luke observed with pleasure, leaning on his elbows in the dirt. "Can I try?"

He predicted the boy's answer: "I guess." But the boy gave Luke the stick.

Out of the corner of his eye Luke saw Leia bid Rieekan rise. _"Alderaan has no need for a queen while she has no body,"_ he heard Leia tell the man _._

He rubbed his finger along the length of the wood, feeling with his fingers what his eyes couldn't tell him. He lay the stick down and rolled it. His face broke into a smile. "I see why you like to play in the dirt," he told the boy. "I like the way it feels."

The boy nodded.

"I grew up in a desert," Luke said. "I didn't have anything like this." Leia and Rieekan were embracing.

"Like the Arahan Sands?" the boy asked. He looked at Luke anew.

"Maybe," Luke responded. "Is that a place on Alderaan?" _Was_ that a place, Luke silently told himself, _was,_ but the boy dud not correct him.

The boy nodded.

 _"You shouldn't have come,"_ Leia's voice drifted to Luke's ears. "What's it like?" he asked the boy.

"I've never been there," the boy answered. "But it's a desert."

"Is it hot? And sandy?" Luke smiled as the boy nodded. "You know what I did in the desert I lived on?"

 _"They're monitoring you. They're waiting for you to give them a reason to execute you, and you just did,"_ Leia's voice was urgent.

"What?" the boy asked curiously. He now observed Luke fully, his little nose crinkled.

 _"I couldn't not come,"_ Secretary Rieekan responded nobly. _"If it's the last thing I do, I had to see you."_

 _"Carlist-"_

Luke leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered, "I grew water."

The boy's mouth fell open slowly and Luke laughed. "And there were two suns," Luke informed him. Something told him to look up again, and he noticed Han turn towards the _Falcon._ Luke figured some unseen signal passed between Han and Chewie, who had remained on board.

"Two?"

Luke returned to the boy. "Two," he answered gently.

"You grew water?"

Luke nodded. "Two suns made it so hot, there wasn't any."

"The Arahan Sands had water," the boy told him. "Where the springs came out."

"That would have been nice," Luke allowed. "Maybe you can come see my desert some time."

One of the Imperial troopers was speaking into a comm. _"-with Princess Leia."_

"Maybe."

"How old are you?"

"Nine."

 _"I don't know how she got in...There's a freighter. Yes, sir..."_

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Young Luke had always hated when adults asked him that question, and he apologized to the memory of himself that he was doing it to another child now. But it was a good way to keep talk flowing.

 _"Serial number is 02..."_

The boy shrugged. "I used to want to be a mountain guide. But now there's no mountains."

"You were going to be a mountain guide on Alderaan? You can still, you know. You'll have to find other mountains, is all." Luke's spine was tingling. The Imperial's comm was back in his pocket, and he looked like less anxious, like a solution had presented itself.

The boy nodded.

"My desert is called Tatooine. My favorite thing to do was go racing in the canyons."

Han's demeanor changed from interested and observant to guarded and alert. He stood on the balls of his feet and his hands were at his side, one hand almost touching the handle of his blaster holstered at his thigh.

"You're a racer?" the boy's eyes went wide.

Luke laughed. "It was just for fun. Where are you going to go next, do you know?"

The boy shook his head. "No. My ma says we have to stay here."

"Yeah," Luke said understandingly. He got to his feet, brushing dirt off his pants. "For a little while. Until they get all this straight. Here isn't very fun, is it? You can't even really go for a walk."

"No."

"Good thing there's sticks and dirt, right?" Leia's eyes were on Rieekan's, desperate, and Han's mouth was on her hair at her ear, his eyes on Luke while he whispered something.

"Right," the boy grinned.

"And when you leave here, there'll be something new for you. You'll have two homes. One you can't see again, but one that will try and make you happy."

The boy nodded.

"I have to go now," Luke said.

The boy made no answer. His eyes were on the horizon, and without turning Luke knew there was something the boy hadn't encountered before.

"Get back in your bunk house," Luke said in a low voice. "Now. Tell everyone."

 _"I'm not leaving without Carlist Rieekan,"_ Leia hissed.

Luke saw Han make a half pivot of frustration. _"I knew you were going to say that_."

 _"He's coming with us. He has to. They'll kill him!"_

The boy got up and ran to his parents. Luke saw him tug on his father's sleeve, point Luke out. He unhitched his lightsaber from his belt.

 _"Do you have any idea what kind of galactic incident this is gonna cause?"_ Han argued _._

 _"As if a civil war isn't incident enough, Captain?"_

Han's voice was full of regret and appreciation. _"Damn. I knew it._ "

Alderaanians were pointing at the large armored transport that was pulling up behind the landing pad. Luke caught bare glimpses of an Imperial logo and white boots disembarking through the landing thrusters of the _Falcon._

 _"If you knew I was going to say that then you should already have a plan."_

 _"As a matter of fact, Sweetheart..."_ Han broke off suddenly from where he stood with Leia and Secretary Rieekan. _"Hey!_ " Han called amiably to Rieekan's escorts. He walked forward, his arms spread, a friendly grin on his face. _"Mind if we borrow the Secretary a moment?"_

The reaction was instantaneous. Rieekan's escorts pulled out their blasters and Han dove under a table, turning it over easily to give himself some cover. "Rickety piece of shit!" he called out, firing and hitting one of the troopers, who fell to the ground clutching his side. "Get to the ship!" he shouted to Leia.

Luke's thoughts raced. Storm troopers were coming around the _Falcon,_ blasters drawn, a full squadron. Leia had Rieekan's elbow and was hurrying him toward the _Falcon_ , whose ramp was descending. Han was still shouting random comments to the air, directed at the Vrakithian camp supervisors. Alderaanians were still in the yard.

Luke knew what would happen. Han was planning on drawing their fire with his effective randomness. The stormtroopers were beginning to shoot, just streaming blaster bolt after blaster bolt aimlessly, not caring who or what they hit. Leia and Rieekan had to pass dangerously close to the squadron.

There was so much at stake, so many to help. Luke had a blaster, and he could take position, like Han, and keep firing until they were overrun.

Or, Luke had a lightsaber. A swirl of memories and images hit him. A _n elegant weapon...swinging, blocking the remote's shot...I could almost see it._

 _See it._

Luke jumped on a table. "Get back to the bunk house!" he shouted at the remaining Aldeaanians, and ignited his lightsaber.

"What the hells are you doing, kid?" Han shouted, striking a stormtrooper with a well-aimed shot.

Luke breathed deeply as the stormtroopers directed their fire at him. _No time for gloom,_ he warned himself. _See it._

He closed his eyes, arcing his lightsaber down, then to the side, up. He heard a scream. It crept under his eyelids, distracting him. _I can't keep this up. I won't be able to. Is Leia on board? Don't look. See._

A percussive rat-a-tat, more screams. Now Luke opened his eyes, jerked his lighsaber hurriedly to the front of him to deflect a blaster bolt, which landed in the dirt in front of him. The belly guns of the _Falcon_ were turned on the stormtroopers, and they fell or fell back, hiding around their transport for cover.

Han cheered Chewie. "Time to go, kid!" He dashed from out of his cover of the overturned table and ran, hunched, firing his blaster as he moved.

Luke followed, closing up his lightsaber as he ran. The ramp started to ascend just as his boots landed on it.

All panting, Han, Luke and Leia watched it close, just as they had watched it open earlier. The line of Vrakith's light crawled from the floor up the wall, along the ceiling, until it was just a line, a crack, and then it was gone.

"There. Mission accomplished," Han gloated to Leia, and turned for the cockpit.

"Was this his doing?" Secretary Rieekan asked innocently. "I must give him my thanks."

Leia exchanged a laughing glance with Luke. She put a hand on Rieekan's arm. "Wait," she smiled. "Allow me to make the introductions."

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"I admit," Rieekan was saying in his husky voice, a bottle of ale in front of him. "I couldn't have dreamed all this if I tried." He lifted the bottle's bottom just off the table, and placed it down again without taking a drink. "To see you, Your Highness." He drank, and shook his head in awe. "To see you at all. Unexpected, and wonderful. A Wookiee in the cockpit-"

"Don't forget the smuggler," Luke put in, enjoying his own bottle.

"Yes," Rieekan smiled, looking around the beat-up _Falcon._ "Nor the Jedi. Quite the cast of characters."

"I'm not a Jedi, sir," Luke corrected.

"You certainly looked like one," Rieekan told him. "That was great work out there."

"Well," Luke shrugged modestly. He wanted to usher Leia into a crew cabin and pump her with questions. _Did I really deflect bolts? did I really look like I had the Force? What did it look like?_ but she was soaking up the presence of Rieekan, who was not only a countryman, but someone who knew the royal family.

"He was training with General Kenobi," Leia told Rieekan.

"Oh," Rieekan said. "I heard about his death." He and Leia hadn't exchanged condolences, Luke had noticed. Maybe because their losses were the same, but he offered one to Luke. "I'm sorry for the loss of your Master."

"Thank you, sir." Master. Ben hadn't said, _you will call me Master._ He had said, y _ou must learn the ways of the Force._ "I called him Ben. Had you ever met him?"

"Just a few times," Rieekan's eyes were unfocused, thinking of the past. "When I was on Coruscant on business with Princess Leia's father. A polite young man. I remember his beard." Rieekan rubbed his jaw with one hand. "We Alderaanian men are often cleanshaven," he explained to Luke with a smile. "Not your father, of course," Rieekan said to Leia before turning back to Luke. "His was red and full."

Luke's lips parted. "His hair was red?"

Rieekan nodded, brows up. "Yes. Of course that was over twenty years ago."

Luke nodded back. "He had gray hair when I knew him."

Rieekan swept a hand over his own hair and looked at Leia apologetically. "And mine was once dark. It doesn't feel like it was so long ago, but time is wearing, isn't it, when it's not easy."

Han emerged from the cockpit and sauntered past them to the galley, where he grabbed an ale for himself. He took a seat at the engineering station and crossed an ankle over a knee. "Wedge made hyperspace, too. Wasn't too bad, was it?" he referred to their escape flight. "Bunch of bureaucrats. Move too slow. But word's gettin' out fast. Press is all over you being there, and leaving in a shoot out. How many messages from Command do you think we'll get when we fall out of hyper?"

Leia smiled. "One should do it. They're going to want to talk to you."

"Yeah, all of us. Think they'll kick me out?"

"I don't think they'll ask you to leave," Leia said, still smiling.

"'Cause you keep putting a good word in for me," Han winked at her.

"Don't tell me you're worried about that, Han," Luke said.

"Nah. I don't leave that easily."

"Since when?" Leia taunted.

Han had his mouth open to retort, but then he laughed. "One thing I wanna know," he said, when his laughter died down, "was, what was that all about? That exchange, between you and the girl."

"I chose her," Luke said proudly.

Leia nodded graciously at Luke. "I thought so. Thank you. I thought I was going to kneel there a long time. I think they were afraid."

"Of what?" Luke said curiously.

"Of being Alderaanian. So Alderaanian, in front of the Vrakith officials."

"Was it a kind of ceremony?" Luke asked.

Rieekan cleared his throat. "It goes back," he looked at Leia for confirmation, "hundreds of years. Five hundred?" He resumed speaking after Leia nodded. "It's the last martial moment of Alderaanian history. The two continents were at war, almost constantly in the last thousand years. One leader arose, Ba'hil the Brave. When he defeated his enemy he declared there should be no more war and he united the two continents. He had the defeated king kneel before him and repeat the pledge of unification."

"Ba'hil," Leia repeated. "It's my father's name. Modernized to Bail."

"What was your mother's name?" Luke asked.

"Breha." Both Leia and Carlist Rieekan looked sad and lost in memory. "She wasn't ki-" Leia tried to explain, and swallowed. "She died when I was young."

"A well-loved queen," Rieekan noted. "The pledge of unification, the words, is recited in schools. But the actual ceremony, the kneeling of two, hasn't been seen since Alderaan developed peace."

"Oh," Luke said. He thought to shift the topic of conversation a little. It was good to hear Leia speak of Alderaan, and truly it was interesting, especially now that it was more legend than history. "I noticed how similar everyone is. The same kind of clothing, and the way hair is worn. On Tatooine, it was a mash of anything goes."

"Corellians have an identifiable fashion," Han said. "The flared sleeves and pant legs."

"You don't wear that," Luke told him.

"I don't like it."

"Of course you don't," Leia said.

"It gets in the way when you work," Han retorted.

"You're still readily identifiable as Corellian," Rieekan told him, and Leia nodded.

"What about me?" Luke asked. "Do you know I'm Tatooinian?"

"Put on the poncho," Han said and Leia laughed.

"It's my mother, actually, who made this popular," Leia placed her palms to the side of her head, indicating her hair rolled into buns. "Members of the royal family were often trend setters. Watched for our fashion sense," she said, a dubious tone in her voice.

"Do something about these uniforms, then," Han suggested, tugging at Luke's jacket. "Not enough arm room."

"Is that why you're out of uniform?" Rieekan inquired and Luke spat ale through his nose.

Han grinned at Luke. "Not quite," he drawled.

"Captain Solo is not a member of the Alliance," Leia told Rieekan with a note of distaste.

"Why not?" Rieekan wanted to know. "You seemed as committed as anyone else out there."

Both Han's and Leia's mouths were open, eyes locked in a duel and Luke waved a hand at Rieekan, signalling a change of subject. "Anyway," Luke began.

"Anyway," Rieekan took Luke up on it. He looked between Han and Leia, amusement plain on his face. "It's nice to see you haven't changed a bit, Leia. I always thought if there was one to go up before the Emperor or Vader, and not give them a shred of an idea, it would be you."

Leia paled and looked into her ale, and Rieekan put an arm around her. "You went through it and you haven't changed a bit," he said gently. "You are fiery and tough and brilliant, and I thank you."

She still looked near tears, trembling in her seat. Han dropped his foot off his knee, slapping the sole of his boot loudly to catch her attention. "And now Vader's got two to worry about."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"I mean Junior over there," Han tossed his chin toward Luke. "Standing on a table, waving a lightsaber around. Vader's got one, doesn't he? A red one? Isn't that what killed Kenobi?"

Han had done it again, Luke thought. Made something big seem smaller, for Leia. Did he realize the monster he just dropped in Luke's lap?

"Oh gods," Leia put a hand to her mouth. "They'll name you, Luke. Vader will be after you."

Luke couldn't answer at first. He was thinking of Ben, and the blade he held in sacrificial pose, sorrow in his eyes, and of his father, and maybe how Vader swung his red sword the same way to strike him down, and all the Jedi Vader had killed. "That's alright," he said slowly. "I think that's how it's meant to be."

"You can't mean that," Leia implored. "He's not going to kill you."

How had she known what was going through his mind? "I think I'm supposed to kill him," Luke said.


	11. Slight Shifts

_A big thank you to all who have left reviews, and especially my dear Guests. I appreciate it so much!_

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There were repercussions, of course, after what happened on Vrakith IV. Some hit close to home for Luke, others were more far reaching.

The media had latched excitedly on to the story of the daring rescue of Carlist Rieekan. The misinterpretation made Han laugh, but Luke thought it was a fortunate misdirection, because it took the spotlight off Leia. She was there, certainly, and was given credit for masterminding the effort, which made Han sputter with indignation, but the story focused more on how Rieekan was an execution waiting to happen, rather than the Princess who was reunited with her people.

Assistance agencies from other worlds noted the plight of the Survivors in greater detail, and joined forces with the Vrakith IV agency, and applications for exit visas were now being granted. To Leia, though the Alliance had technically not been involved, this was an important victory.

Luke wondered about the bitter man he met in the camp, intent on moving to Danderra where he had a vacation home, and hoped he would be able to rebuild his life.

And the little boy - Luke had no idea where that child and his family would wind up. A year ago he remembered thinking how a princess and a smuggler would be brief encounters in a busy life, and now they were his best friends. But not everything in life worked out that way. You didn't always meet someone for a reason. He knew he wouldn't see the boy again. But he liked to think the boy had met Luke for a reason. Maybe he would grow up to become a compassionate man and remember the moment a stranger tried to reach him. Maybe he would barely remember the man who played in the dirt with him.

He would probably remember the shoot out, though, Luke noted with grim humor.

The media had reported several eyewitness accounts. The Empire insisted the Rebel Alliance had violated some historical post wartime accord. Luke wasn't clear on it, though Leia was, and assured him there was no validity to their claim. And it didn't matter anyway, she continued, because they were at war.

Vrakith IV also put out a statement, decrying the Rebel Alliance and Princess Leia for putting her own people in danger to rescue just one man, who had no significance to them, the Empire, or the war.

Leia shot back with her own holomessage to the media. "Refugees of Alderaan have faced great personal danger simply by living in the deplorable conditions established by the government of Vrakith IV. Recent events were intended to enforce change, and I am proud to say, were successful."

Ironically, it was the Survivors who caused the most trouble. They talked openly with the media, describing their Princess' return, the freighter captain who shot Rieekan's Imperial wardens while hiding behind a table, and the young man with the lightsaber who inexplicably did not die in a hail of blaster fire, but who managed to shoot Imperials with their own bolts, returning their aim with a blue lightsaber.

Luke, Han and Leia took some flak from the Alliance as well. Luke and Han tried to protect Leia as much as possible. Han made sure to delete all entries to the nav'puter, and rewrote logs to indicate that the failed stabilizers had caused them to drift far enough off course that it was closer to make an emergency landing in the Krethian System than it was in the Androd System.

Nevertheless, Alliance regarded the three's story with some skepticism. While it seemed Leia was indeed innocent of any scheming, Command was not pleased with what Mon Mothma called her 'conduct' on Vrakith IV. Leia should have contacted Command with intelligence, they insisted, and she should have awaited instruction.

"We'd have been there a year if that was the case," Han derided when she told him and Luke of her debrief. She had neither made an answer to him nor defended Command, but Luke thought she was secretly amused by his reaction.

When Luke was called for his debrief, they scoured his version of events closely, referring back and forth from Han's and Leia's, looking for a discrepancy. Then they had zoomed in on his use of the lightsaber.

They wanted to know all sorts of things. Why hadn't he told them he was a Padawan of Master Kenobi ("a what?" he'd answered), how far he had developed his Force skills, and why hadn't he come to them with his abilities before. They seemed excited the Jedi Order wasn't totally dead and wanted to know if Kenobi had told him there were other surviving Jedi they could bring into the Alliance as allies. We could use you, they told him. ("Be careful," Leia had advised. "They will use you, but not in the way they want you to think.") When he stuttered that he really knew nothing, Dodonna had sat back, grim-lipped and disappointed, and assured Luke grumpily that he could be assured of any assistance they could offer in his training.

"That's nice," Han had said sarcastically. "They gonna arrest Darth Vader so you can spar with him?"

Leia had been hurt by the sense of mistrust she felt from Command, and Luke was puzzled by their overt interest in the Force, but it was Han who was punished.

They claimed he had broken the terms of the contract, and therefore wouldn't honor it. Han had insisted he had done no such thing. The pick-up was made, wasn't it, and delivered. There was even a clause in the contract about unforeseen circumstances affecting a mission's success. It protected both the pilot, from being held responsible, and the Alliance, who could disavow any knowledge in the case of capture, mechanical failure, and death.

"What's the matter with you?" he had complained. "You got what you sent me for. And you got a General" - Rieekan had formally joined the Alliance and received a commission - "and you got great press. It couldn't have gone better. So pay me."

Rieekan would become a member of High Command, overseeing base operations and ground troops. Leia was very satisfied with his appointment. Luke was a little sorry, if only for selfish reasons. He liked Rieekan. He liked the way he treated Leia, with a paternal, caring, yet deferential air. Rieekan was a little older than Uncle Owen had been, or Leia's father, and he came from a time Luke burned to know more about.

Rieekan had known a galaxy with the Jedi Order in it. He'd met Ben. Luke couldn't forget Rieekan's description of Ben as a polite, red-bearded young man. It made Ben seem so real. He had been real, of course, the Ben he knew on Tatooine, but that Ben was 'the crazy old wizard', the secretive, mysterious, hermit. From Rieekan he learned a person could be a Jedi and still be a person, and it encouraged Luke, who thought Command seemed almost greedy to have a Force-user in their ranks. Luke couldn't see past the present either. He felt the Force, but he didn't feel any different. Still unsure, clumsy at times, just Luke. He couldn't picture himself wise, knowing, and Rieekan let him know maybe he didn't have to.

But the time for casual conversations with Rieekan was past. He ranked over Luke now, an authority figure, and there would be no more sitting around together, sharing an ale and stories.

Luke's experience on Vrakith IV had energized him. He felt like he had achieved some sort of transformation. He'd been able to access the Force on his own, under stress. Not just accessed it, like he did secretly in his cockpit, rolling the hilt of his lightsaber around, but _used_ it. Really affected things, hurled blaster bolts back in the direction they came from.

Every waking moment he wanted to do it again, make sure it hadn't been a fluke, test himself over and over again. Results were, at best, sketchy. His lightsaber hilt rolled a full circle now, almost effortlessly, but he couldn't pull a spanner from Han's hand and C-3PO wouldn't power down when he pictured the deactivation button being depressed.

Why was it so tantalizingly close? Why did it sputter like a small flame in a strong wind, when everyone knew air was fuel, and that flame should take off? What was different when he could do it compared to when he couldn't? Why, why why?

"Help me practice," he goaded Han one day.

The Corellian was unhappily idle. He told Leia he thought Command had informally black listed him from making any runs since Vrakith IV.

"They are stupid not to use him," Leia seethed privately to Luke. "He'll wind up leaving."

"They won't let it go that far," Luke tried to reassure her. "He's been a good thing for them." Han had already completed a number of runs for the Alliance before the incident on Vrakith IV. He'd been able to go places the Alliance had not dared to prior, sneaking through blockades and establishing contacts for supplies who did not operate under normal business practices.

Leia eyed Luke darkly. "To them, he's a smuggler, Luke," she said. "I have a feeling when all is said and done, they'll regret resorting to criminal practices to achieve victory."

"That's not fair," Luke said, feeling ineffective. "There's all kinds of intrigue being done. Spying, sabotage."

"I know," Leia nodded. "But those fall under the umbrella of Special Ops. In peace time it's still practiced, just part of the military. When the new government is formed and laws are made, there's going to be anti-smuggling laws. And Alliance detractors are going to be quick to point out the hypocrisy."

"And he can't waste time," Leia continued. "Not while he's got that Hutt breathing down his neck. He's got to get hold of money. Listen to me," she shook her head as she spoke, "- I don't even say 'earn'. I want to see him get out from under as much as you do, and I prefer he do it with us."

"How do you mean that?" Luke asked, confused. "You are fine with the Alliance conducting criminal activities, or you want Han to stay here?"

Leia blushed, then shrugged disarmingly. "Both. If he leaves, the Hutt's going to get him. You and I both know that. Hutts are ruthless. I want him to stay," her cheeks reddened to a deeper scarlet. "I want him safe."

Luke nodded. "I do too." It was nice to hear her say it. He'd had a feeling she felt that way, even though she always called him Captain. It was the way she had a certain pride that she wrangled some run for him, the way her eyes watched his when he spoke, the way they stayed on his to gauge a reaction when someone responded.

Together, he and Leia conspired to keep Han on base. She requested him as her pilot when traveling, though it meant they couldn't use the _Falcon._ She managed for him to obtain some parts for the _Falcon_ from the maintenance bay, writing the work order vaguely enough that it could be taken as Alliance business, so at least he was busy making repairs. Luke spent a lot of his free time with Han, keeping him from brooding about his debt. So he approached Han one day, who was outside the _Falcon,_ taking apart something Luke didn't recognize. "Come out in the woods with me," he invited. "Help me practice."

"Practice what?"

"Forcing."

"No."

"Yes. I need help. I've got to practice."

"You looked fine on your own." Han had come a long way, Luke thought. He'd once called Luke's lightsaber an "ancient weapon" and told Luke he didn't believe in the Force, that Luke's success against the remote had merely been luck. He watched Luke carefully on the voyage back to base from Vrakith IV, eyes narrowed, waiting to see if the Force was going to manifest itself in other ways.

"Just use the remote," Han dismissed him.

"It doesn't fire multiple beams, and it's not fast enough."

Han arched one eyebrow up. "You want me to shoot at you? No. How about I throw pellets or something."

"Again, not fast enough."

"Dodonna offered help. Get your squadron to throw pellets."

Luke flushed. The idea of others watching him train was embarrassing. Han had known about his involvement with the Force since their first meeting, and he wasn't going to involve anyone else.

"Low stun," Luke suggested.

"No!" Han said. "You'll get shot."

"No I won't. You saw what I did. Come on, help me out. Low stun. So if I do get shot, I won't get hurt."

"You ever get stunned?"

"Well, no."

"It hurts."

"But it won't mean a trip to medical."

In the end, Han grudgingly relented. They walked out to the woods, batting the insects away with their hands.

"Why don't you spar with these bugs?" Han suggested. "There's enough of them."

Luke smiled, just to show he was listening. "They don't have evil in them. How about here?"

"Fine," Han scowled. He unholstered his weapon and changed the setting to the lowest fire power. "Want me to move around?"

"Not at first. Shoot four at me and let's see what I do."

"You're gonna get shot."

"Maybe not, Han. I didn't before, and those were real. I could've been killed."

"I know," Han said unhappily. "I don't know how you weren't."

Luke felt a rush of gratitude. Maybe Han was only willing to believe it was the Force because he hadn't wanted to see Luke be killed, and something had protected Luke. "It was the Force, Han."

Han ignored him. "Ready?"

"Give me a sec." Luke looked at the ground, lowering his eyes down his front so that they lost focus. He inhaled largely and let it out slowly. He made himself think of the openness of the forest, of the drifting insects that were all over, of Han standing in between a cluster of trees waiting to shoot at him.

 _Am I crazy? h_ e suddenly thought. _I'm out here in the woods and I asked a friend to shoot me!_

He did feel Han ready to shoot. He did see Han's finger on the trigger, the tendons bending under the skin to move the guard back. He felt his friend's apprehension and discomfort….Behind Han a presence rose, one of purpose, duty, red and humming. This was filled with evil, and Luke frowned in concentration, trying to sense Han...

And then he was on the ground, aware he had made a loud grunt of pain, but that's all that he remembered. He couldn't tell at all where he got struck; he was numb all over, paralyzed. He didn't know when it happened, how it happened. His eyes were open, his lips parted, the dark wood of the branches was filled with lichens and leaves and swayed in the breeze and the sky was blue.

"I got shot?" he asked dumbly. His jaw wouldn't move properly, and his lips didn't cooperate so it came out funny sounding.

"Idiot," Han said. "Yes." He sounded angry.

"Which one? Fourth?"

"Second and third. Sorry, I saw it hit but I couldn't stop myself."

"Damn," Luke said aloud, thoroughly disappointed.

"What happened? How come you couldn't deflect them?"

"I don't know," Luke lied.

"Maybe I was too fast for you."

"No. I felt you. I felt you getting ready. And then - where's my saber?" Luke asked through numb lips. "Am I holding it?"

"No." Han left his field of vision to fetch his lightsaber. "It's over here. You kind of threw it."

"At you?"

Han chuckled. "Wouldn't that have been something. No."

"Damn," Luke said again, thoroughly discouraged.

"Well," Han offered, "at least now you can say you've been stunned."

"Twice."

"Twice, yeah. That's overkill, isn't it?"

"What do we do now?"

"Wait until you can move."

"'K. Will it be a while?"

"Not too long." Han sat down beside him. "Nice day, huh, for a stunning."

"Shut up."

"I told you."

"Yeah. Maybe it's 'cause of you. Your fault."

"It ain't 'cause of me. You asked me to shoot you."

"I know." Dejectedly, Luke thought back to the moment he had accessed the Force. It had been just Han, in the woods, with his blaster. Han was uncomfortable, reluctant, yet supportive. And then that...that _feeling_ arose,that aura, red. Alive with a humming evil.

Darth Vader.

Darth Vader and his red lightsaber, so powerful in the Force he had vanquished all the Jedi. He had ruthlessly killed Ben, and now that he would learn of the blue lightsaber used on Vrakith IV he would have to continue his hunt to destroy Force users. He would want to kill Luke.

 _I can't be afraid,_ Luke said to himself. _I give him all the power if I'm afraid._

That was good, Luke thought. That was wise, like something Ben would say to him. But how now to be afraid?

Luke waited for his body and watched his friend. Han had picked up a leaf. He folded it in fourths and then eighths, until he couldn't get it to bend any more. Then he opened it and began to shred it, tossing pieces away.

Luke wondered if he should have asked Leia to come out here with him instead of Han. He didn't think she would come. She wouldn't want to shoot at him either, though not for the same reasons as Han. Han just thought it was a bad idea. Leia thought it was wrong on principle. Friends didn't turn guns on each other, not even to help. Because it wasn't help. It was guns. She was Alderaanian. They were a weapon-free society.

He could have asked Wedge. Wedge would have done it, without much protest either. _Boss wants me to come out in the woods and shoot at him? Okay, Boss. Whatever you say._ That's why he hadn't asked him. Or anyone else. They all, since the Battle of Yavin, had some idea of him. Luke wasn't sure exactly what it was. All he knew was it was the wrong idea. He wasn't super capable, he wasn't a prodigy, he wasn't better than anyone else. Wedge didn't think any of those, but there was something. Wedge knew Luke; listened to him snore at night. But still, Wedge set him apart somehow. Was it the Force? Just the fact that he was sensitive to it and they weren't? He didn't want that to differentiate him.

Despite his failure, despite his growing fear of Darth Vader, he wasn't sorry for the exercise, or that Han was the one to witness its failure. Han had laughed when the remote struck his rear his very first Forcing lesson, and Luke knew soon as he recovered more Han would laugh again. Han knew him as Luke, just Luke; never had any expectations of him other than being just Luke, with the Force or without.

"Han?" he ventured. He could wiggle a finger tip now. And his middle was starting to burn.

Han grunted in answer.

"Why did you call it a religion?"

"Call what a religion?"

"The Jedi. You said 'hokey religions and ancient weapons.' "

"I say a lot of things, kid."

"I noticed. But what do they worship, if it's a religion?"

"The Force," Han said, as if it were obvious.

"But how?"

Han sounded impatient. "I don't know, kid."

"Well, think about it." Luke's lips were still not moving, but his tongue inside his mouth was, so his words came clearer and it wasn't as hard to make the effort. "Ben never said anything like that. He said it gave Jedi their powers. That," Luke closed his eyes, struggling to remember. It had been a quick explanation, followed on the heels of the revelation that his father had been a Jedi, murdered by Darth Vader. "That it's created by life, I think. By life. Not created life. It's not their god."

Han shrugged, picking up another leaf. "Just what I know of them I guess."

"Will you say something already?"

"They had a temple, for one thing," Han surrendered irritably. "Sounds churchy. They all wore those robes, like Kenobi had. Bet his was the same one. And they weren't supposed to own anything, or be material. No families."

"That can't be," Luke argued softly. "Ben said my father was a Jedi."

"And your uncle said what? He was a navigator? Maybe it was the old man that was lying."

"Why would he? And I have my father's lightsaber."

Han gave another shrug. "Again, what Kenobi says."

Luke was silent a moment. It hadn't occurred to him Ben had lied about anything. He trusted Ben wholly. He'd also trusted his uncle, all his life. But if Ben and Owen had two explanations for the same story, then someone wasn't telling the truth. And right now he couldn't see why either of them would lie. It just didn't make sense.

"Or," Han's eyes looked up at the tree. "Maybe your father was the kind of Jedi that didn't follow the rules. Kind of like his son."

"What do you mean by that?" Luke said, a little offended.

"What Commander helps smuggle a Princess somewhere High Council says she don't belong? And then lies about it?"

Han had a point. It pleased Luke. It gave him a connection with his father. His uncle had been very moralistic, to the point of rigid. "You're a bad influence," Luke accused, and Han chuckled. "How old are you?" he asked Han after a moment. "Did you live through the Purge?"

"'Round thirty," Han said. "Yeah, I remember the Purge. I remember when it happened."

"Did you know of any Jedi?"

"Not really. Seen some, around," Han seemed to be deliberately vague. "But I remember when the clone army came to kill what Jedi were on Corellia."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Han's voice got quiet, as if even the memory of the sight still filled him with awe. And he was about ten, Luke calculated. About the same age as the boy in the refugee camp. "Filled the city. Marching in columns down the street. Killed a bunch more than Jedi."

"Why?"

Han shrugged again. "People were afraid. And they ran. And the army thought they were up to something. Sympathizers, I guess. Can you move anything yet?"

The abrupt change of subject cause Luke to blink. "My eyes. My hand."

"Your foot just wiggled."

"Yeah, I did that. My head's starting to hurt. I can't believe I got shot. After...ach," Luke sighed. "But thanks for coming out with me."

"Beats throwing stones at 3PO."

"I'm going to have to rethink how I do this."

"No kidding. Do you feel that?"

"What?"

"You have a mating pair of those bugs crawling on your lip. Try and close your mouth."

Luke tried to jerk his entire body to get the bugs to fly off, but failed. "Get them off me!"

Han's eyes, gray today, were examining the insects with interest. "The male's the smaller one, right? He's got all these speckles. I hadn't noticed before."

"Males are usually prettier," Luke informed Han, though he seemed to know already. "And smaller." He felt a tickling sensation on his chin. Han's hand was close to his face.

"Not humans," Han said. The bugs were now on his finger.

"How come your eyes change color?" Luke wanted to know. "Are you one of those males that has to look pretty to catch a female?"

Han's expression of disbelief was comical. "I beg your pardon," he said haughtily.

Luke laughed, his lips freezing his face in a grimace, and it hurt in his chest. "Leia likes your eyes."

"I like her eyes, too. And hers don't change color."

"Mine don't either. I don't have to use flashy colors to catch a female."

"'Cause you're smaller. Easier to dispense with you when they're through."

"No," Luke smiled. "You mean like when the female eats her mate?" All of a sudden he pictured his old flame, Talna, as a man eater, and shuddered. "I'm glad I'm human. No, it's 'cause I have the Force," he said confidently.

"The Force is why you're on your back all numb right now," Han retorted.

Luke couldn't argue with that. He grew serious. "You know what I think was different this time?" Luke asked.

"I have no idea." Han shook his finger sharply and the two bugs were flung off, moving quickly with momentum until their wings took over.

"Darth Vader."

"You're spooked, huh?" Han guessed wisely.

"I still have so much to learn. He could kill me a hundred times over right now."

"Don't let him," Han advised.

Luke snorted. "How?"

"Avoid him, for one thing. For another, if you can't beat him with the saber, then find another way. He's gotta have a weakness."

An image of Darth Vader rose again in Luke's mind. Menacing, faceless, that calm, loud, measured breathing. All black, monstrously tall, powerful. No weakness that Luke could see.

"Look at his appearance," Han broke into Luke's thoughts along the same lines. "All that black, not an inch of skin. What's he hiding? And he can't even breathe on his own."

"Thanks for trying," Luke replied, unconvinced. "He's pure evil. I have to be ready. I have to prepare."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, kid. You know, Kenobi probably spent his whole life studying the Force. Since he learned to walk almost."

"I saw him do something," Luke said tentatively, "in Mos Eisley."

"Sever an Aqualush's arm?" Han asked wryly.

"Wha- Oh," Luke remembered. "That guy was trying to pick a fight with me. His friend, or whatever he was, told me he held the death mark on twelve systems. He was proud of it!"

"Kenobi should have killed him, then. Could have collected the reward and gotten yourselves a nicer charter."

"With a nicer captain," Luke teased. "He was trying to calm him down," he added. "Offered to buy a drink." Luke found he could turn his head now, and winced after the fact. "Do you outlaws like to brag about how bad you are?"

Han grinned. "Not the good ones. I'll be sure to let you know when I get my first death mark."

"Ben would call it a dubious achievement."

"If I don't repay Jabba soon, I will have my own," Han said darkly.

"We got stopped," Luke continued, not allowing Han to circle endlessly about his inability to repay the Hutt, "by stormtroopers. R2 and C-3PO were riding on the back of my speeder, and the troopers were stopping traffic, looking for droids. Ben," Luke stopped a moment, vividly recalling the gesture, "waved his hand. And got the trooper to think something else. To agree with him."

"Like mind control?"

"Yeah. He said the weak-minded can be influenced in their thinking."

Han stood suddenly and started stamping on one foot. "My leg fell asleep."

"I'm all tingly now, too."

"Well, good. That means you'll be up and hobbling about soon."

"What do you think of that ability?"

"The mind influence?" Han looked thoughtful. "I think you try that on me I'll shoot you for real."

"I know," Luke agreed. "It's dangerous, isn't it? I mean, you really have to have a strong sense of purpose in yourself to use that, and not take advantage of it."

"Maybe Palpatine's mind controlling the whole galaxy," Han suggested jokingly.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Luke concluded. "Help me get up. I think I can stand."

Unsteadily, with Han's hand at his elbow, the pair slowly made their way out of the woods.

"Don't tell Leia," Luke broke their silence.

Han grinned slightly, and Luke could tell he probably had been thinking of telling her. "Why not?"

"She doesn't like guns."

Han made a face. "The Princess? We talking about the same woman? I distinctly saw her shoot a hole in a wall."

"I'm talking about the Princess of Alderaan, not the Alliance leader."

"What about the Princess that likes to poke fun at the Farm Boy?"

Luke chuckled. "You leave her out of this." He waved his arm in front of his face, trying to move mating bugs away from his nose and mouth.

"She's going to know anyway, you know. Not much gets past her," Han allowed. "Your uniform's all dirty. Dirt and dead bugs all over it."

"She's shifted a little, don't you think?" Luke asked. "Since Vrakith?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, well, us. All of us. Since Mon Mothma reprimanded her. I think she feels a little separate from them."

"Because they haven't understood her from day one," Han said, a note of anger in his voice. "She's finally rebelling a bit."

"The rebel Rebel," Luke said. "Yeah. I think you're right. We gave her something back, didn't we. Something that got taken away. And they knew it was there, yet they've held her away from it. They think she's better off, or the war's better off, if they deprive her of it. Which is totally unfair."

"I'm ready to leave a hundred times a day," Han let slip, "every time I see those assholes. I pity the government that forms from them."

Luke looked with interest at Han. "You mean that?"

"Which? That I think of leaving or that I think the new government might fail?"

"Both, I guess. Really, you think of leaving?"

"Luke," Han halted, as if the thought of his troubles prohibited progress. "To me Mothma's as self-serving as any of the Imperial jerks I served under. The only thing that makes me the littlest bit hopeful is….Leia's there."

Luke took a moment to absorb Han's words. The main thing that stuck out in his mind was that Han had used both their names in the same sentence. Luke. Leia. Not kid, not Farm Boy; not Her Worship or Sweetheart. This was serious, this was Han speaking from the heart.

It hadn't occurred to Luke before, that Han might need a little hope. He was always so sardonic and jaded. He presented the attitude that he had seen a lot, and what he had seen always left him disenchanted. He stopped expecting better, and he stopped caring, removing himself because it protected him from further disappointment.

He had a sudden flash of a younger Han, the one that needed a place to sleep, that joined the Navy just so he could have a bed. The Navy had accepted him, let him in, given him a bed, hope.

 _Treason_ , Luke remembered. Han had evidently lost hope, given up his bed, become more than disenchanted- he'd completely rejected all things Imperial after that. Spent his life in his own way, with his own rules. And now with just two people, Luke and Leia, just them, Han was willing to try to belong somewhere again.

It was a tremendous responsibility, and Luke didn't want to fail. "Leia will do it," he asserted. "I have faith in her. And I love her to death."

Han grinned softly, and he nodded, and Luke wondered if Han was agreeing with how much Luke loved Leia, or if Han was admitting he loved her, too.

"You know, I don't know if I noticed the same as you about Command," Luke trailed off, losing the courage to voice his thoughts.

"What," Han prompted.

"Well, I remember thinking about how they treated Leia. Like she was some sort of object. They hold her up and say 'this is why we're fighting this war.'"

"Lovely," Han commented, full of sarcasm.

"And I remember it made me mad. That's when I was drunk."

"Again, lovely," Han said.

Luke smiled. "They're doing it to me now. And I don't like it."

"Holding you up to show what?"

"The Force. I'm a thing to them now, I'm a...a weapon, or something. Or a way of the old life? when the Jedi were part of the Republic."

"I'm a smuggler," Han said. "Low life piece of shit."

"Leia said the same thing," Luke observed.

"Did she?" there was an odd tone to Han's voice.

"Not about you, how Command regards you," Luke hurriedly corrected. "At least you're alive and not a thing."

"We stirred the pot, didn't we, taking Leia to the camp," Han noted. "Sounds like they got a morale problem. Their top two celebrities are feeling taken for granted."

"And their top smuggler," Luke added. "Leia's afraid you're going to leave because of what came down from Vrakith."

"I like to stick around just to watch the look of distaste when they have to deal with me," Han said mildly.

Luke laughed softly, feeling like he was moving better though his head ached, stooped down because he could and picked up a stick. It felt good to have mobility.

"I gotta leave at some point, though," Han kept on with his own thoughts. "Jabba wants my hide bad. Chewie checked with the Bounty Guild. There's seven that have accepted the proposal."

"Can multiple Hunters compete for the same bounty?"

"Yeah, there's a list of all the contracts that are put out by whoever wants some form of revenge, and the Hunters click on the ones they think they might be able to fulfill. It lets whoever sets the bounty know if it's worth anyone's time. If no one clicks it, then he'll raise the bounty, make it more enticing. The money goes to the one who actually manages to accomplish it, but anyone can try."

"Does the Empire use the Guild?"

"No, the Guild is civilian. Some idiot on some planet got ripped off, and can't rely on policing authorities 'cause the galaxy's so big, so he looks to hire someone to get even."

"So Leia or I don't appear on the Guild list."

"Well, you're on the Empire's list. They have their own ways of looking for you. And it's not to say that a Hunter won't hesitate to bring you in if they happen to find you first for the Imperial award. It's all the same to them."

"But they're not aggressively looking for Imperial traitors."

"How's the Empire word it?" Han wondered. "Known associates of the Rebel Alliance. Something like that. That means you're hiding with the Rebellion, probably, and that's hard to find. Empire hasn't managed it yet."

"They've come close," Luke said. "Three worlds, three bases. Getting ready for a fourth. Damn bugs. Gunking up machinery. My squadron's being sent out soon, even though the new base isn't finished yet. They keep delaying it."

"Me too," Han said. "Finally got a job. I'm flying out tomorrow with a load of supplies and an engineering team."

"Where's it at?" Luke asked. "Do you know?"

"You know they don't say. Nav'puter's programmed to make autojumps, so even in flight you don't know where you're headed. They gave me cold weather gear, though. Someplace cold."

"Everywhere is cold," Luke said. "Compared to Tatooine."


	12. Ready or Not

Luke climbed stiffly out of his X-Wing and joined Wedge, who also lumbered, trying to find his land legs, heading for debrief.

"I need a long nap," Wedge muttered.

Luke nodded humorlessly. It had been a long patrol. They were sent a little farther out than usual, and told to circle more. They saw why soon enough, and dropped back. An Imperial prison ship did not need to have twelve X-wing fighters appear on its screens. But Luke relaxed a bit. Prison ships ran on sublights, just drifting through the galaxy. The beings on board were not going anywhere, for years. This appeared to be standard routine, just the Alliance's bad luck that the prison ship got a little too close to their own air space. Command broke into the prison ship's transmissions, but no outgoing communication was made. Red Squadron was told to wait and watch until the Imperial ship passed out of their patrol area, and then they were finally brought in.

Luke glanced across the hangar and saw the _Millennium Falcon_ was still docked. There was a lot of activity around her. Luke checked the clearance departure assignments with Control. Good, he still had a couple hours until Han was set to depart. Not enough time to enjoy some shut eye, like Wedge, but maybe a quick meal and a meditation with the Force.

It was never revealing, which frustrated him, but it did restore him, better even than a full night's sleep.

That was about all he got from it lately. He was at an impasse with the Force. He hadn't made any progress, in a while. He even stopped sitting in his cockpit, trying to sense things and move them by seeing it in his mind. He was restless, unhappy, impatient, but he didn't know what to do about it. _You are demanding the solution before you have the question,_ he thought he heard Ben say once, but he hadn't understood. _What solution,_ he wanted to grumble back.

 _Let go of your anger,_ he heard another time, when he sat and replayed over and over Darth Vader striking Ben down.

But he couldn't. _No_ , he answered. _Not until I know how to kill it._

He hated Darth Vader. He was Destroyer of All Things. He hated him for what he did to Leia, to Ben, to his father. He blamed Vader for what happened to Beru and Owen. He hated that he couldn't fight him. He was disgusted with himself, that he would just be a useless footnote to the many lives Vader had destroyed.

Luke sighed, and forced his thoughts to move on. There was no point dwelling on something that wasn't going to change. Apparently he just wasn't ready enough for the Force. `

He would have to eat in the mess. Han was set to lift off early and would be too busy to offer breakfast. And then he'd be gone, and Luke would have to find all his meals in the mess.

The place was almost empty, it being between shifts. He flashed his badge at the scanner, and as soon as it registered his identity moved through the line. As an afterthought he grabbed extra rolls. Maybe Han and Chewie hadn't had time to eat, preparing the _Falcon_ for flight. He placed his tray on the table and dropped into a seat.

 _I'm tired,_ he confessed to himself, resting his back against the seat and letting his chin drop to his chest. He cupped his hands on the warmth of his tea. Steam swirled around, quickly cooling and disappearing, and he felt his body sink into the seat, surrendering.

There were speckles of dark spice on his eggs, the distant noise of a stirrer banged on a serving tray, the beep of the scanner, the table had a pattern of swirls that circled into each other infinitely...

 _"Aren't you a little short to be a Force user?"_

Luke started, jerking his cup and splashing cold tea on himself. "What?" he said desperately, looking around for Darth Vader.

Leia was smiling gently at him. "I said I'm not used to seeing you here. You must be more tired than hungry. I heard you had a tense patrol."

He blinked at her. She would never mock him like that. Neither would Ben. Ben had faith in him. _It's me,_ Luke realized. And Darth Vader would not appear in a Rebel mess. _I'm undoing myself._ "Yeah," he finally answered Leia, "but it wound up being nothing. It was long, is what it was."

"Why don't you go lie down?"

Luke rubbed his eye. "Later. I wanted to see Han off. What are you doing up so early?" he asked.

"I'm always up now," she said, a little taken aback at his question. "It's not early."

He looked at her incredulously. "It's the middle of the night." He speared a forkful of egg and found his breakfast had grown cold. He pushed the tray away. "I'm going to miss Han's cooking."

Leia smiled as she chewed a piece of roll. After she swallowed, she spoke. "If all goes well, he'll be staying there, though he might be shuttling back and forth if they need supplies. This new location is proving to be a challenge. There have been a number of construction delays."

"Why can't we just stay here?" Luke asked. "Mating season seems to be dying down. Soon the bugs won't cause as many problems."

"It's time to go," Leia answered cryptically. She lifted her cup, as if to double check that there was liquid in it, and wouldn't meet his eye.

"But if it's not even ready, what's the rush all of a sudden? If the Empire found us right now, we wouldn't evacuate there, right?"

Leia took a big breath and held it, sitting upright and regarding Luke before exhaling it in a sigh. "The Empire is gearing up."

Luke blinked at her. "They are? How do you know? So they're coming?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, it's not like that. They," she hesitated, searching for the best way to put it, "they're intensifying their search. If they were to come right now, some of us would go to the new base, ready or not. We'd all scatter, and regroup at a later time."

She was telling him something, but he wasn't awake enough yet to grasp it. "Where would you go?"

She smiled slightly, as if she knew his direction of thought and found it endearing. "To the new base."

"Ready or not?"

She nodded.

Han would be at the new base, helping ready it, and Leia would go if necessary. Luke thought of meals on the Falcon and lightsaber practice and the two people who knew him best, together, and wondered if this was what she was trying to tell him. "And what about me? Do you know where I would go?"

"Red, Gold, Blue and Green would separate. You'd go to the new base."

Luke nodded, satisfied. "Han said he was issued cold weather gear."

"Yes, the temperature is so extreme whatever he may own personally may not be warm enough. We were considering abandoning that location, but," Leia shrugged, "turns out we need it."

Luke stirred sweetener in his cold tea, reviewing what Leia had told him so far. "So...I don't understand the strategy. Why are we scattering? That's our defense?" The more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. And the more he thought about it, the more he felt like Command didn't have enough faith in his squadron, or Blue, or Green or Gold.

Command obviously thought differently than he did. Of course, he was only a Commander, not privy to all the intelligence coming in from spy cells. Luke's understanding, though, from all Leia had told him, was that the overriding goal for the future of the Alliance was to unify in one location, to form a Home Base. The idea held an eye to the future, when eventually Home Base would form the capitol site of the future New Republic. While war waged this capitol would float mobile in space, capable of meeting the Empire's might.

There was no point in fighting a war, Leia had once lectured him, if a side didn't envision victory. This current plan did not reflect that attitude. Luke frowned at Leia. "But -"

"Consider it a precaution," Leia said. "Trying to stay two steps ahead of the Empire."

Luke still didn't get it. "By scattering? And they're intensifying? If they manage to find a base while we're separated, they'd wipe it out-"

"That's not what I meant," Leia interrupted. "They're not intensifying in strength. The search effort."

"Still," Luke objected, thinking of Red without Green, Blue without Gold, "whichever one-"

"Certain personnel," Leia said.

Luke's mouth remained open, but he didn't say anything. Why was she only giving him hints? And pieces? Was he stupid? "Maybe it's too early," he said with a rueful smile, "but I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Several Alliance members are being given a bit more protection," Leia hedged. "Ready or not."

She still hadn't said anything. Luke was growing frustrated. "Listen, Luke," she said, and he gasped in surprise. It was everyone's voice: hers, and Owen's, who had berated him for not listening, often, even from death, Ben's. "What?" she said, puzzled by his reaction, and her voice was normal.

His focus inward, he nodded to the prompting from the Force, deciding to listen. Listen...new base, not ready, ready or not, Han there, Leia going, Luke going...intensifying... _I see._ "Is General Rieekan going there too?" he asked, to test his theory.

Leia nodded.

"It's us. It's Vrakith IV, isn't it? Are you sure it's protection?" Luke asked. "Are you sure it's not punishment?"

It wouldn't have surprised him, if Command decided Han, Luke and Leia were too independent, too much trouble, and shuttled them off far away, out of the action.

Leia smiled. "It's protection."

Understanding came to Luke in a flood. "It's Darth Vader. And me. That's how the search is intensifying. Darth Vader isn't looking for the Alliance so much as he is for me."

"We heard the Admiral previously in charge was executed."

Luke sighed noisily and rested his head in his hands. "I wish to hells he died on the Death Star." He lifted his head, looking past Leia, looking at nothing, a fatal resignation settling in his bones. His thoughts had followed Darth Vader continuously these past days, and now Darth Vader was following him. And he would find Luke one day; Luke knew it as certainly as he knew he had to rescue a Princess.

His eyes swung to her, his Princess. All this, because of her. And he would be the reason it failed. "Maybe...Leia. Maybe it would be best if I -"

"You're part of the Alliance, Luke." Her voice whipped him out of his malaise. "Don't you dare think of running away."

"It's not running away so much as -"

"It's running away. You will be safe there. And Command is investing in you."

"See, that's the other thing. Dodonna and Mon Mothma were excited about me becoming a Jedi. But as things stand now, I'm never going to. I can't even-"

Leia cut him off again."You can and you will. Someday. I don't want to hear any more about this, understand?"

She reminded him of his Uncle, when Luke got to sulking too much. "Yes, ma'am," he said with mock obedience.

Leia nodded curtly, the discussion ended. She looked at her chrono. "When is Han scheduled to depart?"

Luke glanced at his own. "In about an hour. A little less." He'd slept longer than he thought at the table. "Are you going to see him off?"

"I suppose I could." She looked shy all of a sudden. "I'll meet you down there."

"We could go from here," Luke suggested.

"No, that's alright," Leia said hastily. "I have something to do first, in my office. I'll come down in a bit."

"Leia," he said, "don't."

"Don't what?" Her tone was innocent but her brows were raised in a guilty tell.

Luke sighed and shook his head. She was an adult. She knew what she was doing. Did she know why she was doing it, Luke thought probably not, but she preferred to just do it rather than examine it.

There would be a scene, he saw it coming. He was learning to recognize the signs. She had given him two just now. That shy look and the need to run to the office. He just wished he was able to read the signs better.

She was thinking of Han. That was fine. Luke suspected the Corellian crossed her thoughts more than she cared to admit. It was when she admitted it that trouble brewed.

"Never mind." Luke shoved his tray to the end of the table, signalling to the service droid that it could be removed. She waited a moment to see if he was going to elaborate, and when he didn't, took her leave of him.

Should he warn Han? Luke decided not to. Han was also an adult, probably supposed to be even more an adult than either Luke or Leia by virtue of age, but age apparently did not grant automatic maturity. Luke was too tired to put up with them today.

Others had noticed it. Wedge had asked Luke once, "Is there anything going on with the Princess and Solo?" Rieekan sensed it immediately. But Luke couldn't talk about his friends with General Rieekan and he was not going to add to the rumor mill by discussing them with Wedge.

 _I'll have to work harder at Shyriiwook,_ Luke determined. _Chewie and I have them in common._

Because, in truth, there wasn't anything going on with the Princess and Han. At least, not in the way Wedge meant it. There should be, Luke thought. Since their first moments, the two were drawn together. Like magnets. The way Han was the one to throw her on top of the trash pile in the garbage chute and not Luke. They way Leia's body was turned to follow him when he chased after the stormtroopers, Luke's presence the only thing stopping her.

 _Maybe it's me,_ Luke thought. _Maybe I'm like throwing water on a fire._

Times like this was when he missed his Aunt Beru. She enjoyed human nature. She'd have a field day discussing the motivations of his two friends. Leia had broken Beru's heart and in his mind Beru was always rooting for Han. She would point out to him that magnets weren't affected by a neutral third party. Magnets attracted, and they repulsed. When the poles were reversed, there was no bringing them together.

Leia's shy look. _Oh, Leia,_ Luke sighed. _Why?_

There were two Leias, Luke decided. That was the problem. There was the one, the girl, the woman. She was lovely and soft and compassionate and she cared, so much, about everything. Including a troubled smuggler. That was the Leia who sat close to Han at meals on the _Falcon,_ who joked, who had to swallow when she looked in his eyes, who remembered fine morning air, and friends, and who believed in happiness.

Then there was the other, larger Leia. The one that was all titles. High Council member, Princess, Senator. The one that viewed life in concepts of wrong or right, who held duty above all else. That Leia drew lines in black and white. She was harsh and unforgiving. This Leia didn't want to remember because life was pain and then it was gone, as the law breaking smuggler would be, so she couldn't look in his eyes.

Luke wandered through the corridors back towards the hangar, reminding himself again there wasn't much anything he could to change things, so might as well stop thinking about them.

There were just two places on base that never stopped to sleep. Command Center was the eyes and ears of the base. Personnel moved about quietly or not at all, ushering hushed communications to each other, and the place hummed with a hypnotic constancy.

In contrast the hangar was filled with nonstop energy and activity. Luke and the other fighter pilots worked shifts, but transports and freighters came and went constantly. The place was abuzz with techs dragging huge fuel hoses, crews loading and unloading cargo, repulsor carts whizzing around, and pilots milling about.

Luke noted the empty spaces that meant Blue Squadron was out. Green was on the floor, doing routine maintenance. Luke waved at Green's Commander and strolled towards the _Millennium Falcon._ He spotted Han on top of her hull, probably doing a preflight check.

A dozen or so men were gathered around a second repulsor cart containing twice as many bags and cases. Luke didn't recognize any of them. They appeared to be waiting, some standing; others sitting on the ground or on cases loaded on the cart.

Chewie was standing before them, peeling his lips back in an occasional grimace.

"Hi, Chewie," Luke greeted, and allowed his hair to be ruffled. He nodded at the men, who were watching his interaction with the Wookiee with interest. "You've got live cargo this time, eh?" He turned around to wave to Han and call him down.

Han jumped off the top of the Falcon, landing in a low squat, his fingers lightly touching the floor for balance. "Hey, kid," he greeted. "You're up early."

Luke fished in his pocket and brought out the rolls he smuggled from the mess. "Been out with the Reds. You probably didn't turn in, did you?"

"No," Han took the rolls and tossed one to Chewie, who sniffed it and stuffed it all in his mouth at once. "Got too much to do."

"I wanted to be sure to catch you before you left," Luke told him, eyeing Chewie warily, who was peeling his lips back from his teeth again. "Though I hear I'll be joining you soon as it stops being a construction zone." Luke looked over his shoulder, but there was no sign of Leia yet. "Leia said she'd be down here, too."

"Is that so?" Han's features brightened into mischief.

"Han, don't," Luke warned.

"Don't what?" Han said innocently.

Luke waved Han off, too tired to get into it. Han knew exactly what he was doing, and if he was in the mood, there was no stopping him.

He kept an eye out for Leia, thinking maybe he might be able to warn her.

Not that she needed to be forewarned.

If there were two Leias, Luke thought, there were numerous Hans. Both Leias had one mood, composed resolve, but one had to watch out for Han's many moods.

He was a man of extremes. Patient but intolerant. Loyal yet anti-social. Fierce and light-hearted. Luke thought that while Han was rarely honest he was also one of the truest men he'd ever met. He showed all of these traits at once to Leia, simply by rarely using her name.

If he was in a friendly mood, Han might just call her Princess. There was Your Worship, Your Highnessness; Luke had heard High Priestess a couple of times, this in direct sarcasm about Leia's role in the Alliance. Luke listened carefully every time Han called her Sweetheart. He had told her the first time he used it that it meant respect, and she hadn't liked it. She still didn't, and Han still meant respect.

She still called him Captain.

Privately, to Luke, she referred to him as Han. But always when speaking to the man himself, it was "Captain", or "Captain Solo."

Wry, arch, full of tension; a wound spring. Waiting, anticipating, her own war fought with a smuggler.

It seemed to help her fight the other war, the real one; the one that manipulated data, moved troops, organized refugees. The one that sought to restore freedom, end tyranny, avenge an evil that pressed over billions of lives across the galaxy, the one that with complete disaffection removed a planet.

Luke almost felt sorry for Han. Almost. If he didn't take so much pleasure over there, on his side, if he didn't fight back so dirty, then sometimes he might feel sorry for him. But at other times, he didn't. Han deserved completely what he got.

And Leia gave as good as she got. It's why Luke didn't really feel sorry for her, either. She didn't lose her resolve when she was with Han, but she sure lost her composure. And it was kind of nice to see. She might be furious, or triumphant, or bewildered, or delighted. Han gave her all those feelings.

Really, if there was anyone he should feel sorry for, it was himself. And Chewie. They were the ones who had to put up with Han and Leia the most. They were the ones whose presence was forgotten, who had to suffer the aftermath. They were the ones who bore the brunt of interacting with one who was insufferably smug while the other was irritable and snappish.

There were long moments when truly Leia was friends with Han as much as she was friends with Luke. There were times when both seemed on the verge of ready; when her eyes sparkled, when his laugh was genuine and hearty, when she didn't run away and neither did he.

Those moments usually happened on the _Falcon._ Yes, she was as much a part of the story as the three humans and the Wookiee, Luke realized. She was Han's, not exactly neutral territory, but he had opened his ship to Luke and Leia and it was where Leia had begun to emerge from her shock. On the _Falcon_ she had safely experienced grief and sadness and loss, with a gentle permission. Aboard the smuggling freighter she was able to get in touch with her true self.

 _Hmm._ This was a revelation to Luke. _So I just need to get them on board together._

The problem with Han, and Luke made a mental note to ask Chewie's opinion on this, was you rarely could predict how Han was going to react to something. He'd seen Han deliberately provoke General Dodonna's disdain, as if it were a game, but there were other times when he took it seriously and withdrew into a stony fury.

This morning, or middle of the night as it were, Luke remembered Leia's shy look and tried to gauge Han's mood. He was happy to be lifting off, brusque with preparations. Luke was too sleepy to warn Han from not toying with her and he lacked the energy to head her off with a heads up. He thought he might go sit with Green Squadron and watch from afar.

Too late, Luke heard her before he spotted her.

"Captain Solo," Leia called, and both he and Han turned to face her.

In the mess her Alliance jacket had been draped over the back of her chair. Now it was closed, fitting snugly around her neck. She was holding a flimsi and stylus.

Leia approached Han and stood very close to him. Speaking in undertones, she said, "What is Chewie doing?"

Han peered around her to view his co-pilot.

"He's not threatening the passengers, is he?" Leia asked worriedly.

"Uh, no," Han said, but he was fighting a laugh. "They wanted to board and we're not ready so he's just holding them in place. Chewie!" Han called.

The Wookiee turned around.

"Without the fangs, huh?" Han said, and Chewie lifted his head in good humor.

Luke chuckled but Leia was all business. "I'd like to go on board, Captain," she said.

The sight of her, all efficient and business-like, snapped Han from his playfulness. "You're not coming," he said, almost automatically.

"No, I'm counting," she said smoothly.

Han moved his head ten degrees and looked at her from one eye. "Counting?" he repeated.

"Yes. I'll be taking an inventory of the cargo."

"No need, Highness," Han waved her off. "We know how to read the loading docket."

Luke stood next to Chewie with his own brows slightly raised. So this is what she had come up with. A copy of the loading docket would not be in her office, it would be down here, filed with the Chief Loading Officer. _Leia_ , he thought with a shake of his head. _You're usually so brave_.

"The last two shipments that went to your destination were missing cargo," Leia informed Han crisply. "It seems someone thought items were listed in duplicate without checking first."

Han was evidently not fooled. He put his hands on his hips, squinting at her. "You've never double-checked cargo before, Your Worship."

"We wish to make it clear how important this delivery is, Captain," she said.

"'We'," Han said.

 _We_ , echoed Luke silently.

"Yes," Leia answered.

"The difference from then and now is it's Chewie and me," Han said, pointing at his chest. "We're pros. You don't have anything to worry about."

"I'm just doing my job, same as you."

"I think you're just looking for a reason to come and see us off," Han said.

Chewie grunted and jerked a hand at the group he looked like he'd been guarding. Luke took it to mean _we have an audience._ He looked up into the Wookiee's face, and saw he was finally beginning to understand him a little. He grinned at him.

"I don't need a reason," Leia said.

"Right," Han answered smartly. "You don't. So why do you have one?"

"I am here, Captain, to take inventory. So that when I do see you off," Leia had herself in control, her voice frosty and contemptuous, "I won't see you return because your delivery was incomplete. I am merely sparing you embarrassment, Captain, and ensuring you do not waste Alliance resources."

"Fine," Han said hotly. "Help yourself, Highness. Go count the Alliance's shiny generators." He shouted after her as she disappeared in his ship, "There are six of them!" He gestured towards the ramp and puffed air out. "Can you believe her?" he said to Luke.

"Yes," Luke said honestly, thinking if there was one sure thing to put Han in a foul mood, it was putting the entire Alliance before him. "I can't believe you."

"Whaddya mean?"

"So she needed a reason. You have to embarrass her about it?"

"I didn't embarrass her," Han muttered. "She embarrassed me. Question my competence?"

"But she wasn't, Han," Luke said evenly. "She needed a reason, right? Why do you jump without thinking?"

Han glared at Luke. Finally he snapped, "I don't know. Why don't you get out of here?"

"Fine. Have a good trip," Luke almost snarled. "Why didn't I know this would be the weirdest leave taking I've seen?"

"It's not my fault," Han countered.

"Yes, it is," Luke said. "Yours and hers."

"You can board now," Han said roughly to the group gathered by the repulsor cart. "And tell Her Highness to get off my ship."

Luke shook his head dispiritedly. "I'll get her," he told Han.

He clambered up the ramp and found Leia posed with an upright stylus. He read over shoulder. "You already marked those six generators," he told her kindly. "Come on, he's ready to go."

"I'm ready for him to go, too," she said under her breath, but Luke detected more hurt than anger.

"Don't," he said. "Not in front of me." They walked through the ship. Most of the bays were closed, a list of their contents affixed to the door. "He's got a lot of passengers this run," Luke observed, just to say something and bring Leia from brooding. "Is it a long trip? "

"Several night cycles," Leia answered.

"Where are they all going to sleep?"

She stopped. "That's a good question." It seemed to comfort her, that those traveling with Han were going to have as rough a time with him as she did. One corner of her mouth turned up. "In the smuggling compartments, I guess."

Behind him Han tapped Luke on the back and offered a hand. "Bye, Han," Luke said, clasping Han's shoulder with his other hand. "See you soon."

Han let go Luke's hand. "Bye, kid." He turned to Leia and regarded her silently a moment. "So long, Sweetheart," he finally said.

 _Only on the_ Falcon, Luke nodded to himself.

"Stay warm," she answered, reaching out to tentatively touch his sleeve.

"Was that so hard?" Luke breathed over his shoulder to the two of them as he and Leia made their way down the ramp and he saw Han grin.

Luke and Leia went to the observation deck and stood at the railing while the _Falcon's_ engines warmed up. He could see Chewie in the cockpit, lifting a shaggy arm to the ceiling to touch one of the ship's controls. There was no one else in the cockpit.

"He's not letting anyone observe take off," Luke noted.

"Too many passengers," Leia said. "And to him they're cargo. No special treatment."

"Who are they?"

"From several departments," Leia informed him. "Engineering, husbandry, and construction supervisors."

Luke frowned. The term was vaguely familiar but he didn't remember what it meant. "Husbandry?"

"Animals. It's so cold there the mechanical things have been malfunctioning."

"We'll be using beasts of burden?" Luke was amazed. "Really? It's so primitive."

Inside the _Falcon_ they saw Han breeze into the cockpit and sat in the captain's seat, his eyes on the console. Chewie's head turned to him and apparently he said something funny, because Han's crooked grin lingered on his face a moment.

 _"Millennium Falcon_ ," ship traffic control could be heard over the magnified intercom, warning workers to stay out of the way, "you are cleared for lift off."

"Clear skies!" Luke waved, but Han and Chewie were busy piloting the freighter now, and didn't see him. Luke turned to Leia, who had an odd expression on her face, almost wistful.

"Why did you come down here like that?" Luke wanted to know. "Armed with a flimsi and stylus. He's not that bad, you know."

"I know," Leia admitted. "But sometimes he acts too much the scoundrel."

Luke leaned his elbow on the railing and smiled. "I bet he'd get a kick hearing that."

"Well, he's not going to."

"He acts the scoundrel _because_ you had the flimsi, you know," Luke pointed out to her. "If you'd been, I don't know, less princessy, and more yourself, he'd have been nicer."

Leia pretended not be interested in Luke's commentary and shrugged with a roll of her eyes, looking out over the hangar.

"Why can't you be like me and Talna?" Luke asked.

Leia was back in control. Luke liked the sardonic gleam that came in her eye. "And just would that be, pray tell? Do I even see a Talna to hold myself up to?"

"Well, no," Luke said. "Not right now. But we just went right to it."

Luke winced. It hadn't come out the way he intended, and Leia did not waste the opportunity to tease him. She gawked at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes and pretended to act shocked. "Excuse me?" she said.

"I meant, no games," Luke felt his face redden.

"Went right to it, huh?" Leia said.

"You know what I mean," Luke said. "And we would again, if she were back, without doing all this silly stuff that you and Han do."

"Han and Leia," Leia mused quietly, "are no Luke and Talna."

"The Smuggler and the Princess," Luke said. "The Rebel and the Rebel."

"See, you two had a lot in common," Leia said.

"You guys do."

Leia snorted. "Please."

"You do." It had struck Luke before that the pair were uncommonly similar in some respects, but for the life of him now he could only come up with one. "You share the same sort of humor. You have the same outlook on life."

Her teasing stopped. Leia shook her head faintly and stared down at the railing. "I think my outlook has been shaped by things I'd rather not have happened."

"Who's to say he wasn't shaped by the same kind of thing, just long ago?" Luke asked. "It doesn't make him wrong. Nor you." Leia didn't answer and Luke wondered how to help her. Is that why she stubbornly shied away from Han? Because he reminded her of everything she became, everything she didn't want to be?

"It must have been tough," he ventured, "when you were growing up as the Princess, to be able to have anything like a Luke and Talna."

She laughed, loud and a little bitterly. "There was definitely no Luke and Talna when I was growing up."

"It took me a while to get a Talna," Luke confessed. "I can't say I had one on Tatooine. Not that I didn't want one. Or try. Girls terrified me." He sniffed at the memory of his awkward self, not feeling at all uncomfortable admitting the insecurities of his youth. "I had no idea who I was."

"Whereas it was laid out for me so clearly," Leia said softly. "Everything. Every moment, every day. Planned and scheduled. It was never an item in my secretary's ledger 'develop a Luke and Talna'."

"Too bad," Luke said.

Leia shrugged. "Not too bad. Just the way it was."

"You had a secretary?"

"Yes," she said, her lips in a small smile. "3PO."

"Well, no wonder there was no Luke and Talna," Luke said jokingly. "Nothing like that can happen with C-3PO around."

Leia chuckled. "Of course, there would come a time, when that would be scheduled."

"You mean like an arranged marriage?"

Leia's eyes were far away, remorseful. Luke tried to figure what about. Did a dead planet cause her to grieve a custom she might rebel against while it was alive?

"I insisted to my father, while I was just a girl, no knowledge of anything really, except that I knew one day I would wake up and they would all say, 'now the Princess can marry', but I insisted that I would make a love match. And, looking back, I see he was patient and amused by the whole idea."

"You think it wouldn't have happened?"

"I don't see how there was time," she said wryly. "There were no chance meetings, no way I was going to meet someone I wasn't supposed to."

"Would you have gone along with it? An arranged marriage?" Luke asked. He thought about himself, coming home from school one day, Owen and Beru sitting him down at the table. _Luke, it's time you made your household. We've chosen her. Here she is. Now go get married._ "I probably would have if it were me."

"Probably I would have, too," Leia admitted.

"I thought you were more headstrong," Luke said.

"That's now," Leia said. "I was headstrong, but you know, it was custom. My role as Princess was very important to me. It was everything I was raised to be."

"Yeah," Luke nodded. "I know." She looked at him questioningly. He didn't want to tell her, _my aunt said so_ , so he said, "It's what I know of you."

"That's not to say I wasn't terrified," Leia went on. Luke looked at her and she caught his eye briefly before returning her gaze straight ahead. "The older I got the more frightening it all seemed. Arranged love. _Arranged_. Your first time? With a stranger? I can't believe I'm talking about this with you," she said with an embarrassed smile. "And that I haven't sunk into the floor."

Luke grinned. "It doesn't feel weird talking to you about it. Maybe by the marriage night he wouldn't have been a stranger," Luke said.

"Maybe." Leia returned to melancholy. "And now, everything is wide open. I have this war to fight. Every day, I know how I'll spend it. That's all I know. Everything else is gone, just gone. There'll never be a Luke and Talna for me."

The grin paled from Luke's face, suddenly surprised and disturbed. "Oh, now Leia," he protested. "Don't say that."

"Yes, Luke. That's all there is, this war."

"No - Look at me," he fought for her gaze. "Everything for me is gone, too. I know yours is so much bigger, my world was so much smaller-"

"Your world was your world," Leia said graciously. "It doesn't matter how many people were in it."

"It was a home and an aunt and an uncle, and hope. That's all. And the Empire took it, too. I want this war; I want to win it so bad. I get up every day and fight, like you. But I still had Talna. It didn't take away the fight at all. It made me want it more. Because, it was _nice_. War is not nice. There's no love. The Empire made things not nice. It took away love. And what about when it's over? And we've won? Why can't you have it then?"

"Because," she whispered, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears she refused to let fall.

"Because what?" he asked, distressed.

"There's no - there's nothing. Nothing anyone can love." She sucked in her cheeks, finding control. She thought she had let slip too much, Luke thought. "I suppose I could arrange a marriage," she continued detachedly. "There doesn't have to be love."

"There should be," Luke said.

"My father and mother loved one another," Leia said. "Their marriage was arranged."

"What about Han?" Luke asked.

Leia made a soft scoffing noise. "Han doesn't love me."

"But he can," Luke said. "I think he may want to."

She shook her head.

"Does he terrify you?"

Color flared to her cheeks. "He's a man."

"Do I terrify you?"

"Of course not."

She didn't notice the discrepancy, but it made Luke want to pump his fist. "Because you can love him. Love is terrifying, sure, but it's nice when you've won it."

"You make it sound like it's part of a war."

 _Because it's what you understand, Princess,_ Luke thought to himself. "Only when it's personalities like you and Han," he joked. "I think it's more of a realization."

Leia nodded. "That's exactly what my mother told me. I used to ask her about how she and father met. I was very young, and I wanted to hear a great love story, like the fairy tales she read to me, but it was all conducted around a meeting table. She told me it took a while, but one day she realized she had fallen in love with the man she married."

"Don't you think love comes from being with each other? Making a life together? Of course there's different kinds of love," Luke reflected. "But look at the three of us, you, me and Han. We'd never have gotten together otherwise, but we love each other. In our own ways," Luke was careful to add. He didn't want Leia to get the wrong idea of his own love for her. "When I first met Han I didn't really like him - thought he was a jerk. But now that I've gotten to know him, he's still a jerk, but I like him anyway. I guess I've come to love his jerkish ways."

This made Leia laugh. "The smuggler, the Princess and the farm boy. We sound like our own fairy tale."

"We are," Luke laughed. He was heartened by her soft contemplation. He plowed on. "And I've seen you, Leia. When you let this war share him. I've seen you be beautiful. You touch him, when he's your pilot, on the shoulder. You stand close. You watch him. You and he can be nice together. It's rare," he joked, and she smiled shyly, "but I've seen it. You can still have nice moments when the war is over. It's something to look forward to."

Leia was actually listening to him, which surprised Luke. He wasn't often her equal, and she was so smart he was usually running to catch up. But this was one area where he had more experience. His time with Talna had been brief, but while it lasted she had watched him successfully balance a relationship with war.

"I'm not even going to be insulted that I don't terrify you because I'm a man too, you know. And he terrifies you not because you're fighting a war or because you're a Princess. It's because you're a woman."

Her chin trembled. "Do I terrify you?"

"Absolutely," Luke said swiftly. "Because you were a holomessage first."

"I don't terrify Han."

"Yeah you do. You scare the shit out of him. I just thought of another way he's like you - he thinks there's nothing to love. He thinks he has to be alone, and there you are. It's why he's an idiot around you."

"You think he'd allow himself to settle for someone he didn't love?" Leia asked, "like I would?"

 _No, I think he would just have sex, not love,_ Luke thought, but he didn't say it out loud. "What would your father think, if you showed up with him and told him you were a Luke and Talna?"

Leia was amused. "A 'Luke and Talna. Ha." She gave it some thought. "If Alderaan were here, he wouldn't go for it. He'd probably pay Han to leave planet and Han would take the money."

Luke smiled softly. "It's a different galaxy isn't it?"

"Yes. If my father could see me now, and all that's happened," her brows furrowed as she fought tears again, "he would want me to be happy."

"He would always want that," Luke said.

"It's easier, though, when you don't have...when you can't rely on what you know. He would want me to be happy, on Alderaan, but he would think I could achieve that, eventually, with an arranged husband. So there'd be no place for a Luke and Talna. Without Alderaan, though, it's different. He might come around to the idea of a Luke and Talna." She smiled sadly. "I still think he'd want a certain Luke, though. If the Luke was like Han, he might still try and buy him off."

Luke smiled. "I said it was a different galaxy, but- if you presented Han as a love match and he took your father's money and left, you know what?"

"What?"

"He'd still come back, just like he did in this galaxy."

Her eyes twinkled. "It'd make a neat fairy tale, wouldn't it?"


	13. Teamwork

The first vision occurred in the cockpit of his X-Wing.

He was deep in hyper, and the quiet, the black would have convinced him he was merely dreaming, except for the fact that he knew he was awake.

He was flying, not doing much due to hyper and suddenly a door was opened and Beru was on the other side, inviting him in.

She appraised him, that look on her face that he missed so, full of tenderness and affection.

"You've grown so," she told him.

"No I haven't," he grumbled back at her and stepped in.

It was the kitchen of the moisture farm's homestead. Cheery, warm; not with the desert heat, but from care. It was as if he had been dropped into a scene, the fourth wall of a play broken. He was supposed to be here, while he flew in his X-Wing.

It was only natural the Force would show itself here first, Luke thought. It – no. _He_ , he was the one most open to it in his cockpit, alone, idle. The realization was slightly encouraging. At least he was still open to it.

Ben was at the table.

"Ben!" Luke breathed, half in sheer relief and half in resentment.

"This is your father, Luke," Ben introduced, indicating another man who sat next to him. It was Uncle Owen, but it wasn't Uncle Owen. Luke, aware from his non-dream state, figured that since he had no idea what his father looked like, his mind brought forth the features of someone who had been a father figure.

Luke sat down at the table, his body turned toward his father, hands in his lap. He was eager, desperate. "Tell me everything," he begged his father.

"Darth Vader wants you," the man said.

"I already know that," Luke said.

"No, he wants you," the man, his father repeated.

Luke looked to Beru for help.

"We only met him once," she said.

"What was he like?" Luke asked.

"He was tall, with dark hair," Beru answered.

"I don't look like him, then," Luke said sadly.

She smiled gently. "He was passionate. And serious."

I'm serious, Luke thought. Am I passionate? Leia calls me earnest.

"He was a powerful Jedi," Ben said.

"Father, I'm here," Luke told the man that looked like Uncle Owen. "I don't look like you, but I'm like you, and I want to be a powerful Jedi, too."

"This will be difficult," Ben said.

"You will meet Darth Vader," his father said.

"No," Luke protested. "I don't want to. I'm glad to have met you, but I don't want to meet him. Help me."

Beru ushered him out the door and it closed while he was turning around, indignant, and he was alone in the cockpit of his X-Wing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Something new has started," he told Leia.

"What?" Her voice was caring, attentive. She was like Beru, he thought. She could be sarcastic, and she teased him, but that was because she was human, and had flaws and was frail, but like Beru, in her own way she offered her full support.

"I'm forcing again," he said, and couldn't hide the worry in his voice.

Leia looked at him. "Well, that's good, isn't it? What made you decide to start meditating again?"

"Wait, I said that wrong. I'm not forcing," Luke corrected. "I'm being forced."

"I don't understand."

"I'm getting these...scenes. Visions, I guess."

"What of?"

"I never know. They just happen. Without my control. It's got nothing to do with me at all."

Leia made a soft noise. "Are they frightening? Do you recognize anything?"

"I'm always awake, too. They're not dreams." He shook his head. "Not frightening. It's always Beru."

"Your aunt?"

"Yeah. She's always there. Not really part of, of whatever I'm being shown. Like a prop."

"A guide."

"I guess. Like recently, I was in my kitchen. Where I grew up. She opened the door."

Leia nodded. "She brought you then."

Luke stared at her, thinking hard. "And she made me leave."

Leia smiled.

"She's it, isn't she?" Luke said, nodding. He was glad he finally had the courage to bring it up to Leia. Talking it out with her help clarify things a bit. "She's the Force."

"At least the Force doesn't personify itself as Darth Vader," Leia commented wryly.

Luke grunted humorously. "Can you imagine that? I'd be whipping out my lightsaber left and right, slashing everything up, trying to kill the vision." They both laughed at that.

"The Force sounds motherly," Leia remarked.

"It does," Luke agreed. "It's nice seeing her again. She's just like she was when she was - when I knew her."

Leia sighed sadly. "You're very fortunate, you know. I wish I could see my mother."

Luke didn't answer. He didn't think he agreed with her, that he was fortunate. These were visions; not chances to set the past right. They weren't an opportunity to no longer feel sad about death. Beru was the guide because, while the visions themselves weren't frightening, these calm scenes of domesticity, Luke was frightened of having them. He was left breathless, longing. They were no help. He got no suggestion from them of any direction he was supposed to turn, and when Beru deposited him back in his reality he was left feeling frustrated, out of control, miserable. He was envious of the dead, with their calm knowing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The visions were pulling him in different directions.

 _Leave me alone_ , he would greet the day. _I'm a pilot. I've got training._

The visions were always of the Jedi. Ben, his father, his aunt Beru as the Force. Ben told the same story over and over again, the one he told Luke in his home on the Judland Wastes. The one that started with, "I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father."

 _The Alliance is real. I don't have time for riddles._

"You are demanding the solution before you have the question," Ben said again.

 _You've said that before and I don't know what I'm supposed to ask. All I want to know is how not to have Darth Vader kill me._

Ben and Owen, at the table. "I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father."

 _Leave me alone. I can't leave the Alliance to become a Jedi because you won't tell me where to go._

He was still on Bug Base, as Wedge called it instead of Home Base. He had not yet been issued orders to leave.

"They've hit a winter season," Leia ranted. "Who knew a ball of ice could have several seasons of winter, but there you have it."

She showed him a holopicture. "Han sent this. They arrived two days ago. We didn't get the coded transmission yet, but this was sent from the Falcon."

Luke examined it closely. The holo was colored white, ice, Luke realized, but was fascinating in the textures it revealed. In the foreground a propped toe of a boot blocked some of the picture , but it was clear it showed a huge, cavernous room. Just huge, and the ice was jagged; solid and sharp; the ceiling, the walls, the floor. He could see boot prints in the foreground, which meant there was snow - had it blown in? and in the background Han had captured the engineering team at work trying to install a support beam. Further from them was an opening, revealing a white-blue sky and a rolling landscape. Snow, or ice now; maybe it had once been snow because ice didn't ripple in the wind. The sand on Tatooine had done the same thing.

He looked up at Leia. "It's a desert."

She nodded.

"Is Han working?"

She sniffed and pointed at the holo. "That's his boot. I think. I picture him leaning back comfortably on a chair, legs propped on another, enjoying the warmth of the generator watching everyone else work."

Luke smiled. "You resent that? He was just their pilot. He doesn't know anything about engineering."

Leia rolled her eyes skeptically. "He'd charge us if he did."

"He'll get bored soon, don't worry. I wonder how Chewie does in the snow?"

While he waited for his orders he put his focus on Red Squadron. It was a compromise. This part of the Alliance involved his X-Wing, and he preferred a Force vision there, rather than in the mess, or in his office, when Wedge called his name repeatedly and was now looking at him with concern, wondering how fit he was to lead.

His poor logic was that since Darth Vader flew a Tie fighter, and Luke was also a pilot, it might be that was how they would meet. A rematch from the Battle of Yavin. Never mind that it was Han's shot that dispatched Vader's Tie. Never mind the two lightsabers. That was... that could not happen. Darth Vader possessed the Force in raging glory, and Luke was not trained. Was not likely to be trained. But the Force was there, in him, in the cockpit, and he'd rather pit his odds against Vader in his cockpit than with his lightsaber.

So he collected bits and pieces of information about flying Ties, and incorporated it into the training of Red Squadron. They went up against Ties too, so it benefited all.

Luke knew only a little about flying Ties. Interestingly enough, while there were a good many Rebels who had defected from the Empire, few were active duty fighter pilots.

Biggs was only in his first year at the Academy, so he hadn't started active duty flying before he left the Empire.

Green Squadron's Commander had been a Tie pilot, but he had been promoted, so he spent the last two years supervising battles from the safety of a Star Destroyer before his defection.

The only other Tie pilot Luke knew was Han, who'd been a lieutenant before his court martial.

"What is it about Tie pilots?" Luke had asked Han. "Why haven't more defected?"

Luke had made his own guesses. He thought it might have to do with the ship itself. A Tie was fast and agile; Luke had a sense of the thrill it must give a pilot to be in a ship like that.

Or it might be the training. Stormtroopers didn't have to train as extensively, Green's Commander had told him. Their advantage was in the strength of their numbers. There were hundreds of troopers at a time, and they were each anonymous, covered from head to foot in battle gear you couldn't see who was who. There were so many blasters they didn't even have to aim; just know how to fire it. Whereas a Tie pilot only had his ship, and dog fighting was not unlike hand to hand combat.

Maybe the commitment to the fight, the awareness it was up to you whether you lived or died, made you more committed, Luke mused, compared to the trooper whose death was completely arbitrary.

He'd offered up each theory to Han, who shot them down with typical bluntness. "They don't live long enough," Han said.

This had not been at all the answer Luke was expecting. But it was verified by Green's Commander, who told him he didn't know of any pilot who managed to survive longer than four years of dog fighting, and that was a record. "You're supposed to die."

Han was a pilot, and that meant he had a love for ships that bore no prejudice. The shipyard of manufacture meant more to him than any political allegiance, and he was frank about his appreciation for the Tie Fighter.

"They're nimble as shit. Nice, tight turning radius. And fast. We called 'em our coffins."

Luke wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Coffins?"

"Yeah. It's what you die in. They're completely defenseless. No shielding, no armor."

""How did you last so long?" Luke had asked Han.

Han had laughed. "Got grounded a lot."

"How?"

"I failed to die," Han said simply. "Once I saw a hit coming, and like a good Imp, I shoulda taken it and died, but I didn't. I hit reverse. It was funny as hell. But, you know, in formation that's not a good move, and I came close to colliding with one of my own, so no one else thought it was funny. Just me," Han had finished proudly.

Luke had noticed Tie Formations were tight, and rarely wavered. "One wound up getting shot up during Yavin because no other would move out of the way," he told Han.

Han nodded earnestly, pleased with Luke's observation. "There's lots wrong with the Imperial fleet, and there shouldn't be. The crux of it is they have so many ships and pilots they don't care how many they lose. They don't need imagination or innovation when all they have to do is send them out in Lambda formation, and keep replacing the ones they lose."

"Did you say Lambda formation?" Luke asked with a smile. "That's what we were up against at Yavin."

"Of course you were. I told you, no imagination. It's different here. The Alliance hasn't got the budget. They avoid battle so they don't lose a ship."

"Or a pilot," Luke added, but what Han said was true. In fact that was the reason Luke went about asking questions about Tie pilots. He was trying to develop a strategy. When resources were limited, a bit of imagination and innovation went a long way.

Han's tale of survival had given Luke an idea and he tested it with Wedge in sims training. They pulled up a battle that had taken place eighty-two years ago over Corellia. Luke took the losing side, trying to see if using innovation and imagination were effective battle strategies.

He was curious. Historically, the losing side had suffered a massacre. It was a popular sim to train on, because historians pointed to a number of factors that led to the resounding defeat.

Not one had mentioned the feasibility of going in reverse.

It was still a massacre, but Luke finished the sim with a mark of improved performance. He had more fight time, and scored two kills before exploding.

It was hard to do. Instinct had a pilot wrench up on the flight controls, or veer sharply to the side. Instinct was predictable, and if that pilot in a jam moved according to instinct, then he was not likely to survive. Reverse, however, was completely unexpected, and kept the pilot in the battle a little longer.

Luke and Wedge had Red Squadron train, develop the muscle memory of hitting reverse. They called it going rogue, and developed a formation called Reverse Slash, where every member of the Squadron surged forward before moving backwards in a diagonal line, making the enemy turn to look for them, opening themselve to enemy fire. They also practiced a formation that didn't look like a formation; pairs flying in asymmetrical loops in opposite directions.

"We look like we're drunk," Red Four had observed, and they named that move FUI, or Flying Under the Influence. They pronounced it 'phooey', and delighted in saying it, not caring if their comm chatter was overheard, because it was a kind of code speak.

"Rogue Squadron," Wedge christened them.

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Leia kept him updated on the progression of the new base. Han didn't send any more holopics, but that didn't surprise Luke. The picture of the toe of Han's boot surveying all the work being done was Han's way of letting them know that everything was fine, and reminding them that he was on the frozen planet waiting for the heat from Jabba the Hutt to cool down.

"It's petrified ice," she explained to him once. "That's what the bedrock is. Actual petrified ice."

Luke shook his head. "Never heard of it. So water has a fourth state? It's stone?" He wondered if Uncle Owen would allow him to mention this in his next Force visitation, as he came to think of them. Visions, he suspected, were supposed to teach the viewer something. All Luke learned was how much he missed everyone, even his dinette table. The real Uncle Owen would find this fascinating, but Forced Uncle Owen was always warning of Darth Vader. Luke wasn't getting much at all out of the visitations, but at least he got to see Beru, Owen and Ben again.

"The first team dug down hundreds of feet below the surface, and have hollowed out the ice. They spent weeks monitoring the temperature and molecular tension of the walls. Now we're just trying to make it liveable and safe."

"When do they anticipate having actual residents?" Luke asked.

A shadow crossed Leia's face. "I don't know. The latest progress report is a day late," she said worriedly.

"Have you tried hailing the Falcon?" Luke asked. "Isn't that how Han sent the holopic?"

"I already tried that," Leia said. "I left two messages today. He hasn't responded."

Luke thought the next time Beru opened the door for him he would bring up Han. They- Ben, Owen, and his father- seemed so certain that Luke would meet Darth Vader one day, a feeling he didn't dispute. If they had that moment of the future firmly in sight, perhaps they could reassure him that Han and everyone else on the base was safe, and he in turn could reassure Leia.

"Luke, you're not listening," Beru said, disappointment clear in her tone.

"I am," he told everyone gathered at the table. "But you say the same thing."

Beru's face was exactly the same as when Luke was a child and she told him to go clean his room. He'd be in there for hours but get nothing done. Too distracted, by everything.

"Get your head out of the clouds, Luke," his Uncle would say and shut him in his room. "Just get it done."

Ben wore an expression of infinite patience and understanding. "Luke," he sighed, "you must-"

"I know," Luke said. "I must learn the ways of the Force, he's," here Luke pointed to the man who looked like Owen they said was his father, "my father, and Darth Vader wants me. I know all this."

Beru took his elbow and steered him to the door.

"Perhaps we need to say it differently," Luke heard Ben say before the door shut.

"Get your head out of the clouds, boy!" Owen called.

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Chirping.

 _Birds_ , Luke rolled over in his sleep. _They're usually not this loud. Why are they so loud?_

"Answer it," Wedge muttered with irritation.

 _Answer the chirping._

 _My comm!_

Luke sat bolt upright. _My comm_ , he thought. _Where the hell is it?_ He patted himself. _No. Sleepwear. Clothes, day ones. Jacket_. He jumped out of bed and groped through the pockets.

Wedge rolled over. "I'm gonna kill you, Boss."

"Sorry, Wedge. Go back to sleep." Luke padded out into the corridor in his sleepwear. "Skywalker."

"Kid?" It was Han's voice, clear and awake and wry as ever. "Can you summon the Royal? She left three messages. Everything ok?"

"Two," Luke argued in his sleep.

"I'm looking at the board, smart ass, and there's three," Han snapped. "What's going on?"

So she had tried again after they talked. "Hang on, I'll get her. Walk with me."

"Walk?"

Luke could picture Han's confused grin and woke up a bit more. "You got me up from a nice sleep." He started for the command center, but thought he'd try her quarters first since he wasn't dressed appropriately.

"Something happen?" Han asked.

"No, it's you," Luke said. "We haven't heard from any of you. Reports haven't arrived."

"Is that all?" Han said, sounding a little aggrieved that he'd over reacted. "I took the Falcon out to atmosphere to make sure I had a clear call."

"Leia will appreciate that."

"She better. I bet all those scientists think I've left 'em."

"I'm here," Luke announced. He knocked loudly on her door. "Leia? It's me, Luke. Are you in there?"

Heads popped out of a few doors. Luke wondered what the rumor mill would be like tomorrow.

"Luke?" Leia held a robe tightly to her throat and was squinting in the harsh light of the hallway.

"Han comm'd me," Luke told her, waving his comm unit.

"Hi, Princess," Han's voice said.

Leia snapped awake and pulled Luke into her quarters, pushing the button to close the door. "Han?" she said.

Luke smiled. It was the first time he heard her use his name to his face. Or ears, at least, Luke thought, finding humor in the whole situation.

"Is everyone all right?" Leia asked.

"When I left 'em, yeah," Han answered. "Unless a snow creature decides to attack while I'm gone."

"Snow creature?" Luke said.

"I'm teasing."

"What snow creature?"

"We haven't had a report," Leia said. "I should bring this to General Dodonna. He's ready to abandon the base."

"Pretty sure they sent it," Han said. "It's probably the weather. That's why I came out in atmo. It's been a blizzard the past two days."

"Really, are there snow creatures?" Luke asked. "Are they dangerous?"

"They got a few of the tauntauns," Han told him. "But they don't seem to go for humans. Not yet, anyway."

Leia had gone to her computer. "Come over here, Luke, so I can hear. I have the...just need to..." her voice trailed away as she searched through her data files.

"What's a tauntaun?" Luke asked while he crossed Leia's small living quarters.

"You probably can't give me all this information, can you?" Leia said, slumping a little in her chair. "Geothermic shifts, molecular thickness?"

Han snorted audibly. "I can tell you it's cold, and we get about two hours in late morning to work before stuff stops working due to the temps."

Leia sighed. "What about the support structures?"

"Got two up."

"That's it?" Leia's said in dismay.

"What's a tauntaun?" Luke repeated.

"It's a smelly, stinky, greasy, horned, furry thing."

"I don't care what your personal feelings are for them, Captain," Leia snapped, taking her frustration out on Han. "Have they at least been helpful in any way?"

"That didn't really answer my question," Luke said. "But I'm guessing it's an animal?"

"A very smelly one. But they are coming in handy, I'll give them that. I broke through the top layer of ice and fell up to my hip in sharp snow," Han told them, his voice fading in and out when the connection wavered. "My boot came off pulling it out and I got scratched up by the ice. Thought I was gonna lose a toe, too, but it's okay now. They're not as strong as a Wookiee, but they're good for getting around."

Luke had started to gape. "You ride the stinky, greasy, horned thing?"

Han chuckled.

"Tell me about the shield generator," Leia said briskly.

Han sighed. "I'd like to see you on a tauntaun," but Luke didn't know whether Han meant him or Leia. "The shield generator," Han said, sounding like he was thinking. "Not ready yet."

"The first team was supposed to have that installed by now," Leia hissed.

"You come down here and try it," Han said, back to grumpy. "I told you, they get about two hours a day to work, on a good day. Today, there was a blizzard. Couldn't work at all. We sat around the generator, practiced target shooting by throwing snow at tauntauns, which, by the way, like to chase snow balls, and played Sabbacc. I'm bored. When are you coming?"

Luke looked over at Leia. "Does sound like they could use more help."

"Or a nicer planet," Han broke in.

Leia was staring at the comm Luke held in his hand. "The General's shift starts in three hours. Would you be able to make another trip out to atmo with the Chief Engineer on board so he can make the report?"

"Sure. Which one is he?"

Luke shook his head in affectionate disbelief.

"Don't you know their names, Captain?" Leia huffed. "They've been living on your ship."

"I know. But dressed up in gear we all look alike."

"How's everything else there, Han?" Luke wanted to know.

"Fine," Han answered lightly. "Chewie and I rigged up a system using the snow, so we don't need all those refrigeration units you guys had me carry."

"How does Chewie do in the snow?"

"He hates it," Han said. "Says it melts from his body heat then immediately refreezes. He gets all these crystals on him. Won't go out in it."

Luke smiled. "The Reds tussled with some Ties the other day," he told Han proudly. "You should have seen our Reverse Slash. It was -" Leia was waving at Luke. "I better go, Han. Leia says to get off."

"Sure she does."

"Thank you, Han."

"Sure, Leia."

Luke raised his brows at Leia happily. "He called you Leia."

She offered a slight smile back. "And I called him Han."

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Instead of the dining table it was the one he'd sat at with Ben in the cantina. While they waited for Han to arrive Luke took a look around.

This time he was aware of music. The band had been there before, he remembered; he'd just not heard them playing. It was catchy, rhythmic. Ben swayed slightly in his seat to it.

And this time he could actually name some of the alien life forms. Before he hadn't known the difference between an Ithorian and a Rodian, but the double-throated mammal was at a table and the green reptile was watching Han breeze in from another corner.

Han carried a stack of brochures under his arm. He slid in the booth, looking like a salesman about to cheat a customer, and opened one of the brochures.

"Pick your charter," he told Luke and Ben. "This one describes Jedi," Luke read the subtitle quickly on the glossy panel. It promised Adventure and Wisdom.

"Or you can go Alliance," Han spread another out before Luke.

Continuing the Fight Against Evil, promised the Alliance.

Luke glanced at Ben. "What do you think?"

Ben was pleased. "Ah, you are actually listening."

"Which one is Darth Vader not at?" Luke asked Han.

"He's at both," Han said. "He was an unhappy Jedi here," Han indicated the spires of the Jedi Temple with a jab of a finger, "and here," Han moved his hand to the Alliance brochure, "his goal is to make lives as miserable as he can."

"So one is more personal, while the other affects all," Luke summarized.

"See, you are perceptive, Luke," Ben touched Luke's arm.

Luke tried to decide, taking it all very seriously.

"And if Darth Vader shows up I can help," Han said. "No other charter offers that service. Just me. But if he kills you I still get paid. Got that?"

Luke smiled. "You're the Force," he told Han. "Aren't you?" He turned to Ben. "Where's Beru?"

"The Force is the Force, Luke," Ben answered. "We decided you were perhaps pampered in your youth -"

Luke straightened in his seat, offended. "Pampered?" he said.

Han laughed.

"-and your desire for family had you fall back into that pattern. This version," Ben indicated Han with a jerk of his head, "causes you to rise out of yourself."

"I choose the Alliance," Luke decided.

"Very well," Ben said while Han cleaned the brochures up.

"Docking Bay 94," he told them.

"Watch that Rodian," Luke whispered as he and Ben made to leave.

Han winked at him.

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"Have you had any more visions?" Leia asked from the upholstered chair.

Since Luke's last vision, not really a visitation this time, and his decision his and Leia's fight was truly the same, he would spend more time with her.

And he couldn't help the rumors, or do much to stop them, so he thought if he didn't sneak around them they would just go away on their own. When she got off shift he would go to her quarters and they would sit together. Her quarters were the same size as his, but since she was High Command she was given two more comfortable chairs rather than a room mate.

She was stuck on Bug Base just as he was. Mon Mothma had pulled Leia away from her recruitment duties, telling her that the events of Vrakith IV had to settle in the dust a bit more before she could resume. Smaller worlds worried that Leia's tactics had grown more militant, and that they wouldn't be able to provide their leaders security if the Princess Without a Planet, as the holos now called her, should decide to kidnap them and bring them to the Alliance. The idea was ludicrous, but aided in holonews articles, which loved to highlight the difference between Princess Leia, peaceful politician, who wore the flowing robes of a Senator, and Princess Leia, avenging Alderaanian, who wore the uniform of the Alliance, as she had done on Vrakith IV.

"They were pretty insistent for a while," Luke said, "but they've slowed down some."

"What are they about?" Leia asked curiously.

"My father, mostly."

Leia looked thoughtful. "Your father. The past?"

"That's what I thought at first," Luke said. "But also about Darth Vader. How he'll come for me. I decided it means continuing what my father started."

Leia shivered. "That gave me a chill," she said.

"My father was a Jedi," Luke explained, "and he fought to protect the Republic, and that's why Vader killed him. So I will fight to form the New Republic."

"And hopefully not get killed by Darth Vader."

Luke nodded. "The Force described Vader as unhappy," he said. "And me as pampered."

Leia smiled. "You're learning quite a bit," she said wryly.

"Yeah." Luke smiled. "Imagine, the Farm Boy pampered! You'd think it would be the Princess."

"I wasn't pampered," Leia said with a slight shake of her head.

"No," Luke agreed. "I can see you weren't. You were very happy, weren't you?"

Leia didn't answer for a long time, and Luke was just about to open his mouth to change the subject when she spoke. "I was," she said softly. "I was thinking back. On my life. An example I have – it's silly, really, but I remember bedtime."

"Bedtime?"

"Yes. I have always loved bedtime. When I was a little girl, my mother would lie down next to me, and we'd be side by side, and she would read me a story. And we would talk. That's where I got my most important lessons, you know, on how to carry myself as a Princess."

Luke nodded for her to continue. "Then, as I got older, and had duties of my own, I still loved bedtime. I remember the feeling of the sheets, so cool, and they smelled so good, and I would...smile. Like it was a day well spent. And that was very satisfying." She glanced at Luke shyly. "Did you like bedtime?"

"Can't say that I did," he said with a smile. "Must have been the climate. There was always sand in my bed."

"Were you happy, Oh Pampered Farm Boy?"

"Not like you," he told her.

Leia's face fell a little. "Is it my fault? That I was the holo and brought you to war?"

"You brought me here," Luke clarified. "I said I'd owe you everything, don't forget. No, my uncle always said I had my head in the clouds. And he was right. I never wanted to be who I was."

""Something made you happy," she prompted.

"I suppose. I had moments. Like racing in the canyons. I really enjoyed that; I guess that made me happy. And hanging out with Biggs. We had fun. But I didn't like going to school, and I didn't like doing chores. I was always a day dreamer, you know? That's the reason I say I wasn't happy. I was always thinking somewhere else was better. I used to make my uncle so mad."

Leia sat forward, her elbows resting on her legs. She folded her hands together. "You're such a good person, Luke. I hate to think of you as unhappy. You weren't…. you weren't mistreated, were you?"

"No." Luke shook his head, thinking. "I didn't have many friends. You mean like bullied? No. Nothing like that.. And my aunt and uncle were fine. They took me in as a baby, you know."

Leia sat back and smoothed the fabric with the palm of her hand. "They didn't have children of their own?"

"No, they didn't." It suddenly struck Luke he had no idea why. Whether Beru couldn't conceive, or if it was their decision Luke would be an only child. How self-absorbed he was. No wonder he was miserable.

"They didn't give me their name, though," Luke said, but he wasn't sure why he mentioned that.

"What was their name?"

"Lars. He – my uncle – he was a second generation moisture farmer."

Leia nodded again. Something about her silence kept Luke talking. It wasn't camaraderie; it wasn't understanding. It was letting him know he had more to say. He wasn't finished, whether he knew it or not.

"Little things people do," Luke mused. "Simple things. If I'd been Luke Lars, maybe I would have been happy."

"You felt like you didn't belong?"

"I did," Luke said, thinking of the sand, and the heat, and the kitchen, and how familiar it all was, even now, light years and ages ago. But while he walked on the sand, while he felt the suns, while he ate his aunt's cooking, he saw it now, he felt he hadn't belonged. "No," he realized.

Leia looked at him sadly.

"It's the name. It starts there. I was Skywalker, they were Lars. Why? What did it mean? I was supposed to be someone else."

"I'm not my parent's natural child, either," Leia said.

Luke was thunderstruck. "You're not?"

"No," she smiled at his gaping face. "My mother was always very sickly. I told you she died when I was young. She couldn't have any children of her own, so they brought me into their family."

"Who are you supposed to be then?"

Leia smiled again. "An Organa. I don't know who I was. It doesn't matter."

"Do you know anything about your parents?" Luke asked.

"No. Only that I think there was a connection, politically, to my father. He was away and when he came back, he brought me to my mother."

"But you don't know?"

"No. I was never very curious about it, to be honest. Unlike you."

"Because you were happy. I was curious," Luke admitted. "And they couldn't tell me anything. But you know, I didn't find out until I met Ben that he was the one who brought me to them. They never even told me that. Maybe I knew they were hiding things from me. Maybe that's why I wanted to know. I felt like I was supposed to be someone else."

"Maybe it was the Force," Leia said. "Maybe it was always directing you, but you didn't know you were sensing anything."

"The Force." Luke felt more depressed. "I know who I'm supposed to be now, and I can't be it."

"Then you don't know yet," Leia said simply.

What a beautiful thing to say, Luke thought.

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"Come here," Leia beckoned Luke the next day from the hangar. "We got another report."

"Oh?" Luke didn't understand the eagerness in Leia's posture. "Is winter passing?"

"No, it was transmitted like the others, from the _Falcon_."

"What's so funny?"

"You'll see."

She led him over to the communication console. The tech had to slide her seat over so that there was space for Luke to view into the screen.

The report was very detailed. Leia scrolled through it quickly. "You won't get anything out of that," she dismissed him when he tried to get her to slow down. "It's this part."

A section of the report consisted of a photographic record. There were close-ups of support beam joins in the ice walls, of workers clearing snow off the shield generator, of the tunnel borer creating a passage. Leia stopped at a crew member on a ladder hammering a spike into the ice wall, apparently draping electrical wires for lighting. The man was not wearing the khaki-colored coverall the Alliance issued but a thick blue parka with a furred hood. Luke bent forward to peer better. "Is that-"

Leia moved through some more pictures. The same man on the back of a furry, horned thing. He held a rein in one hand and was gesturing with the other. Apparently he was saying something, as his mouth was open. Luke recognized the crooked tilt of the mouth, the curve in the once-broken nose. He looked at Leia. "That's a tauntaun?"

She was grinning broadly.

Luke glanced at the comm tech, who wasn't missing a thing. More rumors, Luke sighed to himself.

"He's working," Luke said. "I told you Han would get bored and pitch in. If he can find the wrong reason to do something right, he'll give a hundred percent."

"You've been transferred," Leia said. "Reds are escorting a passenger transport."

"You?" Luke asked, and she nodded. "I'll go apologize to the boys," Luke said.


	14. Hot and Cold

Hoth from orbit looked a little like the smaller Tatooine sun at the apex of its ascent. A small, white circle. But Tatooine's sun simmered with a heat while this white circle, a planet, looked lifeless and dull.

Even if no one had told him previously he thought he could tell from space it was cold. The light provided from the Hoth System's star looked light years away, flickering and pale.

Luke shivered in his cockpit, cold also. He hoped he'd be able to handle it. He thought the move here might challenge him physically, simply because he was used to two suns, and Hoth was the sixth planet in a system that circled around a sun so distant, its warmth was barely felt.

While he waited for clearance to land he orbited. The base would be on the southern hemisphere, which looked better than the north. That portion of the planet was covered in a haze, still white.

"What is that?" Wedge, his X-Wing alongside Luke's, asked.

"I don't know," Luke answered.

"Could be a sea?" Wedge guessed. "Like when we see water from space, only this is ice?"

"Maybe," Luke said. His eyes caught a flashing on the console and he read it off to Wedge. "R2 says it's a storm." He'd almost forgotten R2D2, his astromech droid, was in the back of the X-Wing. The hyperspace journey was long, pushing the limits of what a pilot could endure in space travel without making a landing for fuel, fresh water and food. It was nothing for an astromech droid, who didn't need any of that.

Wedge whistled. "It covers half the planet."

"I hope we land soon," Luke said.

He and Wedge and Three and Four were brought in together. They called themselves Rogue Squadron now, a name change at first unofficial, but widespread enough that it caused confusion on the rosters and earned a snappish scolding from General Dodonna. Luke and Wedge had then petitioned for a formal name change.

"Everyone knows the 501st," Wedge had said about Vader's famed legion of troopers. "Organizing the Alliance fleet by color is... " Wedge looked to Luke for help. "is..."

"Bureaucratic," Luke put in.

"Yeah," Wedge agreed. "It says nothing. It's like a tool. But any Imp who knows they're going up against Rogue, starts to sweat."

"Master Luke," C-3PO counseled, "perhaps there is a different moniker to better express the battle strategy of your squadron. 'Rogue' is a more apt description for someone the ilk of Captain Solo."

"Yeah, and he's welcome to join," Luke said.

"It alludes to dishonesty," the droid persisted. "May I suggest instead 'aberrant', Master Luke? Since your squadron prides itself on the unexpected."

"Aberrant Squadron?" Wedge tested, his face screwed up and trying not to laugh.

It was simple to have a droid initiate a replace command once General Rieekan gave his approval.

The name change resonated with Luke. Saying _Rogue One_ was no different than saying _I'm Luke Skywalker._ He tested it out on Leia. "I'm Rogue One, I'm here to rescue you."

"Aren't you a little short for a fighter pilot?" she had supplied good-naturedly.

Luke grinned. "Works for me. Rogue it is."

The four members of Rogue Squadron chatted among themselves as they made their slow descent, comparing this architecture with what they had known previously.

"Sure is camoflauged," Four commented.

"It's petrified ice," Luke told them, repeating what Leia had told him. He was nervous about it. So far only a few ships docked in the hangar, and Leia assured him the scientists were constantly measuring the temperature. Luke still couldn't get his head around the idea that ice could be stone and not melt, that the number of new warm-blooded inhabitants weren't going to have an adverse affect on the environment. But, she'd assured him the installed support structures would help hold the ceilings up in the case of a collapse..."It's hundreds of feet underground," he added.

"Know-it-all," Wedge, who knew his partner's worry, said affectionately.

"How'd they find this place?" Three wondered.

"Years of scouting, I heard," Wedge said.

"Empire will never find us."

"I kinda hope they do. Just so we can leave."

"That ain't funny, Four."

The hangar was wide enough for all four ships to enter abreast of each other. Wedge whistled again. "I give them credit. I'm looking at it and I can't envision it."

Luke nodded. He saw the passenger transport Leia had arrived in, in the process of unloading and disembarking. Carlist Rieekan, fresh off the ship, was already being a general, pointing and consulting a board in his hand. C-3PO's gold covering glinted in the light and Leia, recognizably short next to Rieekan, seemed to be turning a slow circle. Besides Rogue Squadron and Leia's passenger transport, there were only three other ships, freighters. The _Millennium Falcon_ was one, and Luke's heart gladdened. As he rolled to a stop he kept his eyes on her, but he didn't see either Han or Chewie milling about.

His X-Wing was greeted by a rolling scaffold and a magnetic crane for both him and R2 to disembark. "Happy Landings," a tech greeted him with a smart grin, holding his hand out for Luke's helmet.

"Thanks." Luke scrutinized the tech, checking his clothing to see just how cold it was in the hangar. He wore boots, but so did Luke. A head piece which covered the ears, but the techs wore them at all bases; their ears needed protection from all the engine noises. Gloves, thick and cumbersome, and the jacket was also thick, lined and _stuffed_ was the word that entered Luke's mind, stitched down to make it less bulky.

"Enter that chute there, Commander," the tech told him.

"What is that?" Luke asked. The indicated area had temporary canvas walls and a covering overhead. It was narrow, and looked long.

"All new arrivals go there for processing," the tech answered.

Luke made an inward face. _Processing?_ That wasn't exactly a friendly term. For some reason it made him think of the Alderaanian refugees on Vrakith IV.

"I get the feeling I'm not on Corellia anymore," Wedge said.

Rogue Three, piloted now by a man named Zev, whacked Wedge with the back of his palm. "You left a long time ago. Come on. So it's cold. So there's a chute. So we're processed."

"Anyone see the other Rogues? Dak and Hobbie were ahead of us."

"They got processed."

They entered the narrow chute, wide enough for two abreast, and Luke swallowed, reminding himself the walls were not closing in.

Wedge echoed his thoughts. "If I had to make a movie showing a panic attack, I'd film this."

Zev giggled and Janson, Rogue Four's name, added nervously, "This is what they do to the nerfs, isn't it, before slaughtering?"

"We're not being slaughtered," Luke said, hoping his tone sounded like it came from a contemptuous Commander. "Lighten up."

He turned around. Leia and Rieekan were behind him. They shuffled along the chute for a while, and Luke thought, _it's not so bad._ His hands weren't cold, and neither were his ears. His nose hadn't even started running.

They passed through a sort of doorway, made of slashes of the canvas material, and entered a chamber. Frozen air blasted his cheeks and his nostrils pinched painfully with each breath.

"Welcome to Hoth," a Lieutenant General greeted with a smile. "Since you can see my breath, you probably can't tell what a warm welcome I extend you all. We're glad to have you here. It's been a lot of work over a long period of time, and we're glad to finally have some company.

"Hoth is tough; I'll be frank. Many of our non-human colleagues can't come here because the climate is not hospitable. It barely meets the requirements to sustain human life as it is."

"Great," Wedge muttered.

"The chutes serve as a shelter for those arriving without protective gear. You'll find them at all exit points. Over there we have brought you your uniforms," he pointed at the far end of the chamber. "That end of the chamber is heated, and that's where you'll find the changing stalls," he pointed to another area, and scanned the crowd, mentally counting. "We only installed four," he said, "so, passengers, pilots first, if you don't mind. I hear those flight uniforms may be a mess."

"Can't we just go to our quarters and change?" someone piped up.

"If you don't mind a touch of frostbite, be our guest," the Lieutenant General said. "But we're low on bacta, so you'll have to sign a waiver saying you undertook the risk yourself and understand you won't be treated."

Wedge's mouth was open and the other pilots had varying expressions of surprise on their faces. Each of them had jammed their hands under their armpits.

"It's cold, huh?" Zev said.

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They actually had a tour, led by someone Luke had never met before. They were each given a small data chip, which when activated, gave them a holographic layout of the base. A large-scale version had been projected before they embarked on their tour, and Luke tried to note the important tunnels: the one leading from his quarters, one to the mess, one off the command center, one to the hangar. He figured those would be the ones he'd traverse the most.

They were all fed at the same time, Princess and Generals, pilots and comm techs, construction crew. The mess was still mostly empty. Rogue group sat together, across from the tech that had assisted their landing. He was a new acquaintance; Luke had never seen him before at the other bases. Maybe Hoth was filled with new recruits.

"Sure nice to have some more warm bodies," the tech told them, happily shoveling food into his mouth. Luke picked at his. Maybe warm it had been appetizing, but the cold had congealed the oils into a gelatinous, gloppy mess.

"Do you know Han Solo?" Luke asked the tech.

"You know Solo?" the tech answered.

"Yeah, I know him," Luke said and Janson sniggered.

"I'm trying not to know him anymore. I owe him two pairs of socks I lost on a Sabacc bet."

"Socks?" Wedge asked.

"You'll see," the tech said, making Luke feel like an outsider. "Socks are a valuable commodity."

"I didn't see him around the _Falcon,_ " Luke said.

"He probably had somewhere to be. Just been a handful of us here, you know. Lots to do, and it's a big base."

"How long have you been here?"

The tech counted with his fingers against the table. "Seven months."

"I'm freezing, man," Wedge said. "How do you stand it?"

The tech shrugged. "You learn to deal with it."

Luke nodded, turning back to his food. When they finished the same man that had greeted them out of the chute went to front of the mess and started talking again.

"I feel like I'm at summer camp," Wedge leaned over to Luke quietly.

"I never went," Luke said.

"You get an orientation." Wedge put on a mocking tone, "Don't go swimming without a buddy, lights out at ten, boys have this lodge and girls stay at that one, and never the twain shall meet. That kind of stuff."

Luke laughed.

Leia wasn't sitting with him, but with the command center personnel. She looked attentive and wary, and the couple of times he managed to catch her eye she gave him a slight arching of her brows.

Next they had a class. It began as fairly tame, and he wasn't going to pay close attention because his belly was full and he figured he'd rarely experience the planet first hand, but rather live underground. They were at first given some general information about the planet.

Hoth had three seasons, none of which Luke could say he really looked forward to. The temperatures, even at the warmest time of Hoth's year, never went above freezing. There was a winter wet, which they were experiencing now, a spring wet, where snow continued to fall heavily but not as violently, and a dry season, where the ground snow got blown about by strong winds.

Another theme soon emerged: survival. Luke was horrified at pictures of bodies suffering exposure from the cold. Lost digits, frozen skin, turned blue and black. Even traipsing about the base without proper clothing might earn one a trip to medical.

The geologists that had scouted the planet's feasibility for use as a place of human habitation had not recommended a central heating system. No one wanted to risk great environmental changes when they had tunneled hundreds of feet underground. Heating generators could be found at strategic check points, and sleeping quarters had battery-operated warmers in the mattresses that were turned off but needed to be recharged each morning.

"Mind you, we'll be aware if you abuse policy," the Lieutenant General cautioned. "Temps of the warmers are monitored. It's for your safety. Maximum setting is plus twenty. If we see it higher, we'll shut it off and it's up to your commanding officer whether or not to throw you outside as punishment."

They were issued sleepwear. "Excuse me," Janson raised his hand. "Sir. There must be a mistake. I have six shirt thermals and four leggings."

"No mistake, pilot. You have two sets of sleep wear."

The entire class blinked at the speaker and counted their allotment of clothing.

"You will wear three shirts and two leggings each sleep cycle. There are bed covers, of course, and the head and hand liners can be worn at night as well. They are part of your day uniform."

"If I don't meet a girl soon, can I just sleep with you for warmth?" Wedge whispered to Luke.

Luke answered with a laugh, "Never the twain shall meet."

They were dismissed. Encouraged to explore, but stay within the confines of base, unpack. Pilots would have another training class in two hours.

"What for?" Zev grumped. "We flew through bugs, we can handle a little ice and snow."

"Ground patrol," they were told.

They looked at each other, some swallowing. So they would be going outside. Luke looked at his fingers through the hand liners. _Stay pink,_ he told them.

He shouldered his way over to Leia. "What's on your schedule? I'm thinking of going to see Han."

"I already checked," Leia told him. "He's on patrol. He'll be back later this afternoon."

"Oh," Luke said. "Your information was better than mine. I only heard he was around somewhere."

Leia smiled gently. "I have access to personnel and duty rosters. There's perks to being on High Council."

"Yeah, you get to check on the whereabouts of a smuggler," Luke said.

"You're ridiculous," Leia said. "Here, I'll show you." She pulled out a data board and keyed in something with her gloved finger. "See," she showed it to him. "Talna is not stationed here."

"Too bad. See you later, then," he told her.

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They got lost, even with the little holographic map held in Wedge's palm. The passages followed the natural veins of the petrified ice flow rather than a design of systematic order. The maps didn't include doorways which led to rooms with no labeled function so they found themselves discovering store room after store room. With Zev and Janson along, it was comical. Luke wasn't worried. He wore the hand liners and had gotten used to the quilted jacket. It wasn't as bulky as he thought.

"It's got a down lining, I bet," Zev remarked about it. "Some poor avian got plucked for us."

"I don't believe this," Wedge said. "Aren't we pilots? How can we be lost?"

"If only we had a nav'puter," Janson sighed. "We could plug in coords and pop into the classroom."

"I don't think it works like that, Janson."

"All this work to make a map. Why didn't they mark the tunnels? They're all the same."

"Just look at the map," Luke tsked with a smile. "See, we're here."

"Oh, like we couldn't detect the little blue dot," Wedge snarked.

"And our destination is...C4. Northeast. Here." Luke pointed to the map. "Obviously, we're south of it. And west. We'll take this one to the end, and then turn right at the juncture, follow that-"

"Alright, alright. One step at a time."

When all of Rogue Squadron had gathered their next training session began. The class was led, again, by someone Luke didn't recognize from the other bases he'd been on. This was an older human, mid-fifties Luke judged, with a full gray beard.

They were shown the speeders. The pilots' eyes gleamed, and they looked at each other secretly. _Races,_ their glances said. Then their faces fell.

"As soon as we figure out how to adapt them to the cold, we'll be using these," the instructor said. "In the meantime-"

"Tauntauns," Luke blurted.

As if on cue, one was brought into the room. The pilots reacted, some holding their noses, others muttering, "what the hell?"

Greasy, furry, smelly, horned...how else had Han described them? Maybe he'd said something about their smell twice. Truly, the stench was a bit overwhelming.

"When you get outside, it's not that bad," the trainer told them. He began to explain how the creatures lived on Hoth. They were diurnal, and generally hibernated during the winter season, because even their lungs couldn't take the levels of cold. The reason they were up and about this winter was because the Alliance kept them in an underground chamber, and they were warm and well fed.

While he spoke, the tauntaun, flicked its head back and forth, as if the reins around its snout bothered it.

"We still don't know all there is to know about them," the trainer said, "but they're docile and strong, and as long as we feed them, they're willing to work for us."

The tauntaun provided its own running commentary while the trainer gave his talk, lifting its short arms and garbling an almost cute noise from the back of its throat.

"Is that one male or female?" Hobbie asked.

The trainer had obviously not expected that question. "Honestly, I don't know," he answered. "They all look alike." He stared at the tauntaun thoughtfully a moment, then shrugged. "When you go out," he continued, "you'll carry a pack. Always make sure the pack is loaded on the back of the saddle here," he slapped the back of the saddle and the tauntaun made its noise. "It can save your life. It has a shelter, a heater, and a battery blanket that stays warm for four hours. Also two ration bars."

"What about water?" Wedge asked.

"You'll eat snow," the trainer said as if it were obvious.

"Oh."

"Eat snow, Antilles," Janson called.

"There's a trick to staying mounted, so we're going to practice that today. This here is the-"

"Why, though," Wedge said, resisting the policy that he would be forced outside daily. "Why ground patrols at all? With all that shielding, the sensor arrays? It's not likely anyone's going to come calling all the way out here, is it?" He turned to Luke. "I bet even Solo couldn't come in undetected."

The trainer nodded. "Hoth's protected by an asteroid belt, another asset for us, though it makes departures tricky as well. But the orbit's ellipse is so wide that there's a point where the gravitational hold weakens, and there's an awful lot of meteoroid activity. High Council feels that activity bears constant monitoring."

Hobbie's brows were up. "The Empire is going to disguise itself as a meteoroid?"

The trainer sighed and waited for Hobbie to answer his own question.

Wedge leaned forward past Luke. "Probes, you ass. You're embarrassing all of Rogue Squadron."

"What about nights?" Luke asked, who'd been paying strict attention. "I'm sure meteoroid activity doesn't stop to sleep. You said the tauntaun lungs can't take the cold - can they go out at night?"

"Good question," the trainer said with a curt nod. "There won't be night patrols. You are right. Neither you or the tauntaun would survive. Command Center will note landings by surface impact and first patrols will ride out to the site. We're counting on the temps to make any visitor, like a probe, unable to function as well."

The trainer waited a moment to see if the pilots had any more questions. Then he had them gather around the tauntaun and practice mounting. When all the pilots managed to swing their legs up, grab the reins, and keep the tauntaun still, the trainer took them to the stable.

Luke couldn't help coughing from the smell. He lifted his face cloth over his nose.

"We don't know why they smell so bad," the trainer said with a sad smile. "They're relatively clean animals." He gestured at an area the animals obviously used to place their waste. It was apart from where the tauntauns stood, or even lay on the ground in a funny squat, using their short arms to prop themselves.

The tauntauns shifted uneasily at the sight of so many humans, and they began to make a lot of noise.

There were six of them. The trainer was correct, they did look alike. Same height, not much variation in their markings, stubby, cream-colored horns.

"The herd's up to about a dozen. The rest are out on patrols right now. So six of you, approach one at a time and saddle up," another trainer instructed. "You'll be having a go in the snow. You other six will follow behind. Don't worry," he added humorously, seeing the twelve pilots jockey for a tauntaun like it was a game of musical chairs, "you'll all get a turn."

Luke held on the reins tightly, riding behind Wedge, as they made their way through a chute. He blinked as they emerged into the day of Hoth. The weak sun reflected off ice crystals, and he got his first look at the landscape of the frozen planet.

Hills; drifts, he assumed, of snow, like what the sand had done on Tatooine, undulated gently. When he swung his head to the right the snow was pristine and smooth; over to the left it rippled where the wind had ordered it about.

Luke lifted his face cloth over his nostrils again. Out in the open the air was wonderfully fresh; only the faintest perfume of tauntaun wafted to his sense of smell, but it was terrifically cold.

The trainer had them line up single file. "Stay away from unmarked snow," he told them. "It's fresh and soft, and slow going. Where it's rippled it's turned to ice, and that's where tauntauns move best."

They walked for a bit, the tauntauns complaining in their garble. They had strong rear legs with barbed toe claws. The gait was a combination of grabbing and sliding.

"Patrols are only three hours. Can't have you guys exposed too long. So you need to move. Kick on their sides to get them to run, like this." The trainer demonstrated and took off.

Wedge and Luke exchanged glances. Wedge's eyes were crinkled in a grin. _Let's race,_ he seemed to say.

It was actually fun. Luke felt half frozen, and kept making sure his hands were still gripped tightly on the reins. Hobbie fell off twice, and Wedge's mount stopped to forage under the snow, but there was something freeing in riding a tauntaun across the snow. Almost like his landspeeder on Tatooine. Only bumpier.

Luke had to wait, standing in the snow, while the remaining six pilots had a go. He experimented on the ice, trying to walk, and slipped and fell. Wedge laughed at him. He walked carefully to a different area, thinking of the gripping and sliding motion of the tauntauns. Here the snow seemed to be transitioning from crystal to powder and he scooped some up in his glove. _You'll eat snow._ He had to try it. Looking around furtively, he sneaked the tip of his tongue out and licked the snow. Then he stuffed the handful into his mouth.

Instantly, his insides shriveled and cooled. The snow made his head hurt. He shook his glove clear and went back to wait patiently with Wedge. He stood and shivered, his insides frozen. _I am so so sosososososo cold,_ Luke told himself.

Three steps in the chute on the way back and Luke's nose started running. He pressed a glove to it in alarm, wondering if he were bleeding, but it was a clear liquid.

"You were issued fifteen face cloths," the trainer barked out knowingly. "Use 'em. Patrol schedules are to start day after tomorrow, once you boys have adjusted to the time change. Our regulars will be pleased to have a break. They've been going out twice a day."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were to have more classes during the day.

"I haven't worked this hard since school," Wedge said, dropping his saturated face cloth in the laundry bin of their tiny quarters.

"I'm going to see Han," Luke said, grabbing two cloths and attaching one to the head lining while stowing the second in a pocket. "We're back in C-4, right?"

"Right. Don't get lost."

Luke passed the South Passage, which he saw would bring him to the command center. He counted doorways to passage entries, looking for the one that would take him to the hangar. He met a few others navigating the passages, all looking like they knew where they were going, but at the moment it was not crowded. When the base reached full capacity, Luke knew, it would look very different.

He stepped before the second doorway, confident he was right and the door slid open. There was only one other person in the passage. For a moment, Luke froze. _No, no. How could that be?_ Darth Vader had found him, had found the base.

A tall figure, powerful looking, walking slowly. Luke was aware of silence. He fingered his lightsaber, hitched at his hip as always.

He took a step backwards. He was panting. _No,_ he thought. _I can't._ His thoughts came in jumbled spurts.

 _Run. Tell the others. Get Leia. Run._

Luke turned and hurtled himself through the doorway. He ran back through the South Passage. His breath in his ears, he knew the command center was just ahead, to the right. He would tell Rieekan, he would alert the base, he would escape, he would...

Why didn't the base know?

Luke slowed. His breath in his ears. He couldn't hear Darth Vader's. Leia had told him - Luke entered the command center-

"Can I help you with something, Commander Skywalker?" Rieekan asked in a friendly air.

\- Leia had told him he used a breathing apparatus. That his respiration was calm, evil. And loud. She heard him coming through the closed door of her prison cell.

 _Is this real?_

"Skywalker?"

Everyone was staring at him. He turned from his waist, and Darth Vader was still marching forward. Surely they could see him by now. Surely -

"We have provided directions for many of the newly arrived," C-3PO said. "Everyone seems to find the command center before they find anything else. It's a design flaw I fear, don't you think so, Master Luke?"

-surely this was not real. Luke gathered himself. Darth Vader was waiting for him. "I'm trying to reach the hangar." He stepped aside, in case he was blocking Rieekan's view of Vader.

"Ah, you went too far." Either the man was unflappable, or Darth Vader was not real. "Go back to the second doorway," Rieekan's look was almost consoling, as if he were sorry for Luke's anxiety.

"Thank you, sir. Sorry to bother you."

"Not at all, Skywalker."

Vader escorted him to the hangar. His breath made no noise and he did not speak. Luke was too sullen to ask him what he wanted.

Luke entered the hangar, but Darth Vader remained outside, and it was several steps before Luke noticed. He turned one last time and met Vader's eyes.

"Keep your friends close," Vader advised, and he vanished.

Luke strode towards the _Millennium Falcon,_ wondering if he had appeared completely crazy in the command center. Had anyone heard him mutter _keep your friends close?_ It was a good thing he hadn't challenged Vader to a duel.

"Hey, kid," Han said smoothly, spotting Luke. "You're looking cold."

Luke hoped he seemed composed. _It wasn't real. Keep your friends close._

Was it a warning? A message? _These are my close friends. Will something come between us? Or are they in danger?_

 _It wasn't real. Think about your friends._

Han's hair looked longer, though it had only been two weeks since he'd last seen him. His jaw was lined with a few days' worth of stubble. He looked somehow grounded, like he'd taken up residence. The ramp was down, there were three crates arranged like for a makeshift seating area, and Luke spied tools half buried in the snow.

Leia was already there, sitting on a crate and looking like she had taken up a form of residence herself. It didn't surprise Luke that she was there, but at the same time it was surprising that she had allowed herself to be there. She looked a mite embarrassed, sitting up quickly from her crate and brushing her pants off.

Engines flared to life, a freighter getting ready for lift off, and Luke's ears were filled with sound. He looked at Leia, whose lips were moving, and to Luke it was like she was the one roaring. Gentle brown eyes, shapely mouth, howling and roaring unintelligibly. It was surreal, frightening. He turned around to make sure Darth Vader was indeed gone.

The hangar doors opened and a small freighter lifted off. The hangar was quiet once more, but the frigid winter air was noticeably colder.

"What happened to you?"Leia asked with a mild look of concern. "You look half crazed."

"Please don't say that," Luke said, feeling like he was halfway between laughing and crying. If Leia had been alone he might have confessed his vision and had her analyze it, but he didn't want to get into it with Han and Chewie here.

"Hey, Chewie." Getting his hair ruffled in traditional Wookiee greeting and having his back slapped by a smuggler helped ground him in the moment. "Not crazed," he told Leia. "Cold. You've never seen me look cold, right?"

She didn't seem to believe him. "I've never seen anyone look like that." She turned to Han. "I'm cold. Do I look like that?"

Luke's tucked his chin, slightly surprised. That Leia had invited Han to answer a question; Han, who in the rare instances if he answered truthfully, he didn't answer simply. Han, who usually inflamed her. And she had asked him a question.

 _One way to deal with the cold, I guess._

Han grinned. "No, cold looks good on you."

"And you look like you've grown used to it," Leia remarked to Han. "Your coat is open. You're not wearing gloves."

Luke relaxed, breathing air through his nose. Han and Leia were apparently going to enjoy one of their exchanges, which meant they would drop their attention from him.

"The snow turns your eyes blue," Leia continued. "And your cheeks are pink."

Luke glanced at Han and the stubble that covered his cheeks and jaw.

"As long as the lips aren't blue," Han quipped.

"Wait a second," Luke couldn't help interrupting. He didn't see any pink skin. On Leia, yes. And it did look good on her. Healthy. But Han, for one thing, did not have Leia's pale, porcelain skin. And for another thing, Han hadn't shaved in days. "I don't see pink cheeks." Leia threw him a reproachful look. "Are you growing a beard because it's cold?"

Han moved his eyes from Leia to Luke, remembering himself. "No, water's frozen on the _Falcon._ Even she's malfunctioning some."

"You make it sound like it's a rare occurrence," Leia said dryly.

Han glared at her. "If I keep her engines warm she's fine. But I can't afford to waste the fuel, seeing as keeping warm don't qualify as Alliance business and they won't let me have any."

Luke stood there and shivered. He had added his sleep shirts and leggings since coming inside, and still wore the quilted outerwear, hat, hand liners and gloves, and he was freezing. He was hoping that Han would invite them aboard the _Falcon_ but apparently that wasn't much warmer than out here. "Will I adjust to the cold?"

"You will," Han shrugged, unconcerned. "If you're moving around it's not so bad. Know what I do? Keep in a group. Even standing next to one person makes it warmer."

Luke nodded. _Keep your friends close._ Maybe it had merely been advice. "So I'll just hang out with you, then." He moved a crate closer to Leia and sat down. "Friends are two kinds of warm."

Leia smiled. "You're sentimental, Luke."

"You mean he's a sap," Han said.

"No, it means I found a way to deal with the cold. " He felt himself cheering up. He was on Hoth, an ice planet, and he was supposed to be cold. Han had been here longer, and while he dressed for cold, he was able to function, quite well by the looks of it.

A sudden calmness washed over Luke, like a warm bath. He was going to be okay. It had been a vision, just a vision. Different than others he received, but the Force made sure to attract his attention. It had it now, so it would probably leave him alone. He turned to Leia.

She wore a one piece snow suit, all white, with high, suede boots that looked soft, warm and comfortable. Her Council insignia was over her right breast. She was wearing her gloves, and the cold added a pretty healthy color to her cheeks. "I like your issue, Leia," Luke told her.

She flushed. "They ordered me white. I'm the only leader in white."

"It's your princess color," Luke said.

"Well, here, a member of a military installation, that kind of status doesn't have to be observed," Leia retorted.

Luke backtracked hastily, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized, stupidly. "Maybe the female leaders wear white. What's Mon Mothma's uniform like?"

"She's not here," Leia huffed. "And why differentiate? It's not gender that's important, it's the leader."

"All the leaders should wear white," Han said. "Or at least dress differently than the rest. I threw a snowball at Dodonna because I thought he was that tauntaun lieutenant."

"You shouldn't be throwing snow at anyone," Leia chided but she looked like she was trying not to smile. "It's childish."

Luke was glad to be able to have something to laugh at. "Bet he was pissed."

Han nodded, looking at Leia. "He was. But you stand out, Highness," he told her. "That's a good thing."

"Good for what?" she scoffed. "Avoiding snowball fights?"

Luke checked his chrono. "I have to go and find room C-4. I have a class on sensor placement. Did you get tauntaun training, Leia?" Luke asked.

Han smiled. "Leadership don't smell, so they don't get smelly, kid. Didn't you know that?"

Luke remembered the photograph of Han comfortable on the back of a taunaun. "You've been on patrols, Han?"

"Yeah, ready to join the circus."

"What do you mean by that?" Luke saw Leia was scowling, and decided not to pursue it. Han was probably being derisive of either the Alliance or tauntauns. "Never mind. I thought the tauntauns were kind of fun."

He noticed again how the area outside the access ramp seemed almost inviting. "I like what you've done to the place," he joked to Han.

Han shrugged dismissively. "Haven't gone anywhere. You start to spread out when you don't have to pack up."

"You're still providing a valid volunteer service," Leia said.

"This ain't about volunteering, Sweetheart," Han said in irritation.

"Yes," Leia contradicted. "You're providing a service and not receiving payment. That's volunteering."

"No," Han countered. "You are providing _me_ a service. I'm not moving until I figure out what to do with that bounty."

"So you're staying a while?" Luke asked, completely oblivious to the flare in Leia's nostrils or the scowl set across Han's lips.

"I'm staying but I'm not doing any volunteering," Han said. "I'm taking advantage, is what I'm doing."

"That is nothing to be proud of," Leia said. "And volunteering is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes, it is," Han argued. "Time is money, and you're stupid if you're not compensated when you spend it on someone else. I'm more of a...a parasite," he finished with lame pride.

"Parasite?" Luke wondered skeptically. "Like a sand louse? You bite me for food and make me itch? Why would you want to be a parasite? I kill sand lice."

Han blinked at Luke. "I'm a good parasite," he said, thinking on his feet. "I keep the Empire away from the Alliance and in return they give me a place to stay."

"'Keep the Empire away'," Leia quoted. "That's a service. You volunteer."

"Then the Alliance volunteers for me-"

"Can't you two settle for mutually beneficial?" Luke asked, barging again into their argument.

"Captain-"

"Princess-"

"Can I be a parasite and ask you to cook me dinner?" Luke asked, standing.

They ignored him.

"A volunteer," Leia was saying, "is someone who offers to participate-"

"The food gets stone cold the minute they drop it on the tray,"Luke said, trying to get his friends off track. "Did you notice that, Leia?"

''A parasite," Han interrupted, "is someone who lives off a host at their-"

"I'm going to get C-3PO," Luke determined. "Settle this thing once and for all."

"That won't be necessary," Leia said hastily.

Well, it was nice to know they heard him, Luke thought.

"Don't ruin my fun, kid," Han said.

"Fun?" Leia said haughtily. "Do I look like I'm having fun?"

Luke sighed. They had come full circle. He opened his mouth, about to answer Leia with _yes, you do,_ but thought better of it. Things might be going to heat up between the Princess and Smuggler, by the looks of it. Leia had sought Han out by herself, and their earlier argument had definitely seemed like flirting.

"Tell you what, Princess," Han said. "I'll vol-"

"I've got another class," Luke announced abruptly, standing up.

"I should head back to the command center," Leia sighed.

"I'll come with you," Han said. "I've got to check the schedule for my patrol tomorrow."

Luke rolled his eyes and watched as Han and Leia moved away. Their jackets touched and his head was bent as if to hear her better.

Luke considered them, cocking his head and contemplating his vision. _We're close right now. Is that what you meant?_ Everything seemed...normal. Fine even.

Leia was testy, brilliant and defensive; Han sarcastic, bitter and charming. They seemed to be growing closer, which if Ben were here Luke would insist to him was as much their destiny as was his own to become a Jedi.

The fright of his vision receded into nothing, and Luke felt a little foolish about it. _I do hold them close. I don't need a warning about that._


	15. Lucky

"What do you mean you're Echo Three? That's not fair," Han said, his voice wry as ever, coming behind Luke as they headed out into the winter morning. "I've been here longer and I'm only Seven."

"Why don't you try enlisting then?" Luke said, tugging his hat down and keeping the tone light. "Maybe they'd make you Echo Four."

"That's some powerful persuasion, Junior." Han pulled the goggles down over his eyes. The tauntauns stepped out of the stable chute into the snow, garbling complaints. Han had to spur his mount on with a light kick to the side.

Luke smiled. "Yeah, I know." He lifted his face cloth, grateful the soft material acted as a barrier against the sheer cold. He'd been told it had stormed over night, and by the looks of the sky it seemed like bad weather was on its way again.

"Going to get nasty in a bit," Han echoed Luke's thoughts, and bounced up and down in his saddle, reminding the tauntaun he was riding it. "I don't know what's up with this one today," Han griped. "It don't wanna move."

"Maybe it feels like hibernating," Luke said, observing Han's mount. Even though there was hardly any distance between them, Luke noticed how neither Han nor the tauntaun stood out in stark relief. They were dark figures smudged, barely emerging out of the dark gray backdrop. "Maybe it's like me, and would rather stay inside and sleep."

The wind swept across the plain and Luke found himself squinting behind his goggles, trying to make out anything ahead of him in the frozen wasteland. The snow became the shadow of the sky, more gray.

The two tauntauns touched each other's snout and uttered more noises.

"Rikm rikm rakm rakm," Luke imitated.

Han's breath puffed out steam. "You bonding, kid?"

Luke laughed, feeling the cold air move into his chest.

Yesterday had been his first full day on base, but he'd spent it off duty, sleeping off the soreness of three days in a cockpit, and learning to walk on snowy terrain. He and Wedge had explored some more. They noted the location of the sims training room, played a game of net ball with the other Rogues in the recreation room, which was nicer here than any other base he'd been to. Probably because at those bases it was allowed to be outside. In the evening, he and Leia had sat around on crates outside the _Falcon's_ ramp, which Han called the patio, while Wedge and Zev played Sabacc with Han, who won another pair of socks but said he wouldn't collect from newbies.

Chewie sat with Luke and Leia, who pressed the Wookiee for language lessons. She told Chewie she wanted to learn the vocabulary of what was found on a freighter, and started the lesson asking, "how do you say 'where is Han?'" Chewie gamely played along, and after a few hours Luke could say he finally understood answers like, 'Han is in the cockpit', or 'Han is outside.' It had been a relaxing evening, still too cold, and he felt a little groggy this morning after a poor night's rest. He'd woken curled up in a tight ball, shivering.

It was his first ground patrol. All members new to the Hoth base were to start out with someone who'd already logged a good number of patrol hours, in case they encountered any difficulties. He had teamed up with Han to patrol one sector, while two other teams covered the other two. In three hours, when their shift was up, these tauntauns would be brought inside to rest while the other six were sent out. The additional manpower meant nothing to the tauntauns, whose numbers hadn't grown, but Han was happy because he'd only have one shift to do.

"Do you think it's likely something like a probe droid would land?" Luke asked Han, who was assessing the best way to divide up the labor. "Did you shake your head? I can barely see you." He lifted the goggles over the brim of his hat.

"I shook my head. It would depend on a lot of things, wouldn't it. But it's not impossible. You comfortable if we split up?"

"Should we?" Luke said. "It's okay if we separate?"

"It's what we usually do. Only have three hours, and it saves time."

"I guess," Luke said, trying to sound convinced. He wouldn't admit it to Han, but he was reluctant to be on his own.

"Your homing beacon on? Yeah? Then you'll find your way back in no problem. You don't have three hours charge on the glove warmers, so you'll have to turn it off every once in a while. Just make sure the comm unit doesn't freeze. Keep it in the glove."

"What if the storm hits again?" Luke asked, hoping he was making a suggestion with the Force to Han that it was best to maybe not even go out at all.

"Tauntauns will let you know. They get sort of panicky. Start squealing. Head in if that happens." Han pulled on the reins so his tauntaun veered to the left. "See you back," he called, obviously immune to the Force.

"Guess that leaves you and me," Luke spoke to his tauntaun, and it flicked its head upward. "I'm glad one of us is used to this. You take good care of me, you hear?" Luke bent low to speak into the animal's ear. "Don't get us lost. And don't throw me."

He and the tauntaun walked into the wind. His hands felt like they had fingers, thanks to the battery pack in the gloves. He decided it would be best to place the sensors with warm fingers, and by the looks of the locator he was given it seemed a ways off, so he switched it off to conserve power.

"Brr," he told his tauntaun. "How life evolved on this planet is beyond me. Although I've heard the same thing about Tatooine, and there's lots of life there."

He watched the locator, indicating he was getting close, and thought of Tuskan Raiders riding their mounts, the great and hairy Banthas. "I had a mount of my own, I guess you could say," Luke mused aloud to his tauntaun, who garbled back at him sweetly. "My landspeeder. I used to patrol in the mornings there, too."

But it felt so distant, like it had been another's life. Rising early, the morning cold but the sky blood red, checking the dew points in each condenser unit, capturing water before the suns rose and evaporated it all to invisible steam. Uncle Owen riding next to him, silent but wakeful, Beru in the kitchen, making sure the pair had a big breakfast when they came trudging in, sandy and sweaty.

He hadn't felt it in a while, this panging sadness. Maybe it was the desolation spread out before him, reminding him of the last time he saw his home. The memory of things so normal, so routine. Life.

The corners of his eye stung sharply; a tear, an icicle. Luke wiped at his eye with the rough glove, and it felt harsh and abrasive, and he brought the face cloth up, trying to soften it, and the cold snapped at his lips and nose and threatened to make ice on his face there. _Uh oh, I'm making a mess of everything._ He decided to turn his glove warmers on, and slipped the goggles back over his eyes.

 _All these places I've lived,_ Luke thought. _Yavin, dripping dew, and the underground spring. Calvunca, with the sheltiv splashing in the ocean. All that water, and I miss Beru and Owen._

"I'm lonely, little tauntaun," Luke told his mount.

"Echo Forty-eight?" chimed from his glove. Han, who had to be as miserable as he was, joking instead of moping.

Luke shook his head, grinning, reminded his loneliness was for things he could never have again, but he wasn't alone. "Good timing," he said, a smile in his voice. "You're an idiot. I'm just coming up to my first."

"Good. Need me to walk you through it?"

"Nah, I think I remember all the steps."

"How's your mount behaving? Is it acting funny at all?"

"I don't think so. It's only my second time with them. Why?"

"Mine is. Just doesn't want to walk." Han sounded worried. "I haven't come across that before."

"How many more do you have to do?" Luke asked.

"Three. I'll check in next thirty minutes. You staying warm?"

"What do you mean by warm?" Luke said, eyes narrowed. "No."

Han laughed. "Maybe I mean are you still warm-blooded."

"Barely," Luke answered.

He figured he took longer with his first sensor than he should have, but he wanted to be sure it was done correctly. He took it slowly, muttering each step out loud, and recalling how they had done it in the relative safety of the classroom day before yesterday. He stepped back in triumph when he saw it was transmitting.

"We did it," he told his tauntaun. "I know you just stood there, but in a way it was helpful. Ready for the next? Rikm rakm?"

"Rakm rakm rikm rikm," the tauntaun answered.

"Good. Let's go find it."

After the second sensor transmitted successfully Luke started to relax. He had checked in with Han for the third time and they still had more than an hour to go on their patrol, but the sky remained as gray, his tauntaun continued the same running commentary, and Luke was beginning to feel like he gained a certain familiarity with his new surroundings. He rode along, practicing 'Han is outside' in Shyriiwook.

The next time Han checked in he used Luke's name, and the playful tone was completely absent. "Luke? Think I figured out how to tell which tauntauns are female."

"Yeah? How?"

"When one rolls over on you in the snow and gives birth."

"What?! Are you serious?" Luke looked at his tauntaun accusingly, as if it was supposed to tell Luke of his herd member's state.

"Yes, I'm damn serious. She fucking gave birth right here."

"It gave birth? It was pregnant?"

"Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," Luke said hurriedly. "I'm just surprised."

"No more so than me," Han said. "I'm calling in. You wouldn't happen to know how much recovery time a mother tauntaun needs before getting up again, would you?"

"They didn't cover that in training."

"I didn't think so."

"Is there a baby?"

"How much sex ed have you had? Yes, there's a baby. I twisted my knee, I think. She just flopped over, no warning. I had to wiggle out from under."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm gonna need a ride."

"What's the baby look like?"

"It's...hey. Hey!" Han began to shout and Luke could hear screams, one that sounded frightened, another more like a roar, neither of them Han, who Luke could hear shouting curses, but they were coming faintly, like Han was no longer holding, or even near, his comm.

"Han? Han!" Luke called, shaking his comm under the hem of his glove, as if that would help. Han's comm was still transmitting. It was almost as if Han threw it. "Han! What's going on? What happened?"

The noises were awful. Luke had a feeling he was listening to a struggle for life and death. He kicked his tauntaun's side. "Come on," he told it, and suddenly wanting to know whether it was male or female. "Let's go find your friend."

The tauntaun took off at a run, and Luke held on tightly, the hem of his glove raised and turning his exposed wrist bright red. Pictures of frost bite from his informational class flashed through his mind as he ran across the plains in the direction of the portion of the sector Han patrolled.

"Han!" he called every few steps into the comm. His tauntaun stopped muttering and ran with a determined concentration, as if it had absorbed Luke's anxiety. "Han, are you there?"

He only heard cursing, and screaming, and roaring, and shouting. One of the screams was gone, or it changed, tiny and fearful. "Han!"

The sound of a blaster. "Talk to me! Han!"

While they ran Luke thought _how am I going to find him? Why are we running when we don't know where we're running to? What should I do?_

He should call in. There was another blaster shot. Han's voice, "You fucker!" Luke switched channels.

"Echo Base. Echo Base, this is Echo Three," Luke said. Worriedly, he scanned the horizon. He couldn't hear Han on this frequency. He switched the channel again. "Han?"

Silence. "Han?"Luke jabbed a finger at the comm again. "Echo Ba-," he began.

"Echo Three, what is your situation?"

In his panic, Luke didn't know how to answer. "This is Echo Three. Something happened to Echo Seven."

"He called in. We're sending a pair out."

"He did? What was the screaming?"

"What? Echo Three, repeat? We did not copy."

"The, the- He said - Never mind. I'm going to find him."

"Negative, Echo Three. Don't leave your sector. Do you copy? Echo Three? Don't leave-"

Luke switched the channel again. "Han?" He was coming upon a transmitting sensor. And he spied prints in the snow; the long oval ending in claw marks and boot prints from it to the transmitter. Luke lifted up his boot. These weren't his, were they? He wasn't lost, was he? Han had given him a pair of his own boots. They wore the same size, almost. Luke had big feet, Beru had always said so. She was surprised he hadn't grown taller than he was.

 _Keep it together, Skywalker,_ he coached himself. "Han, do you copy?"

He couldn't come up with what could have transpired, and desperately wanted to hear from Han. The tauntaun gave birth was all he knew for sure. And then - what? What caused the screaming? Why was Han cursing? What had he fired at? Was the Empire here? Had Luke's vision come true? And he was far from Han, not doing a good job at all keeping his friend close.

The comm responded with a new noise. No shrieking, growling, screaming or curses. A noise of air, moving across the comm's microphone. It could be wind. Luke listened carefully. No, too regular. Then -

"Kid?"

"Han?"

Han was panting. "Yeah. I had a...Fucker took her. Right from there. Where she..." Han breathed hard.

"I'm in your sector."

"I don't know if I am. I was, was... _shit."_

"Send a flare. I'll find you."

"Okay. I've got...Blaster wouldn't work. The firing mechanism was outside."

"Try it now."

"Too fucking cold. There, do you see?"

"Yeah, I got you." Luke followed the trajectory of Han's flare with his eyes, noting how it was reflected in the white of the snow on the ground. "Stay where you are."

"I've got to -"

"Stay, Han." But he probably wouldn't. Luke knew Han too well. He was worried that Han didn't seem to follow a thought through.

"I had to get the pack."

"Good idea. I'm not far." Luke urged his tauntaun on. His comm pinged again, this from Echo Base, and he knew they were going to tell him again to stay away and come in on his own.

He switched the channel but didn't bring the unit near his mouth or ear. He just kept riding, toward Han. His comm talked on its own, repeating "Echo Three -"

 _I didn't come this far to leave my friend in the snow_. "I know what you're going to say. But I can get to him before you." He shut it off, knowing he just earned himself a reprimand from General Dodonna.

He came across blood. In the snow, tiny splotches with little perfect drops making a ring outside it. The snow was very disturbed; pushed, flattened, prints, bright, bright red. So bright. Chillingly bright.

Luke followed the drops of blood and suddenly came over a rise and there was just a lot of blood, a pool, saturating the snow red, gradating into paler and paler shades, until it was a pale pink.

Han sat on the snow, arms straightened over bent knees, looking into the little hollow he'd made with his body.

"Han?" Luke said, alighting from his tauntaun. With great relief he saw there was no pool of blood around Han.

Han lifted his head, but said nothing.

Luke approached, taking in the sight. He could see the handle of Han's blaster tucked into the space between his bent leg and waist. _Keeping it warm,_ Luke guessed. "What did you hit?" he asked.

Han jerked his chin and Luke followed his gaze, toward the blood-soaked snow. The snow looked odd there; not bloody, but not like it was made of water. Luke stepped forward, and almost uttered a shriek of his own.

The dead tauntaun, the mother, was there, looking very small, and as gray as the sky. What Luke had thought was odd snow, waterless snow, was actually fur. He let his eyes adjust to the fur, the long, straight, white staples of hair that looked like snow but weren't. Claws, talons really; long and curved and lethal looking. A round, ugly mouth, full of teeth, dark eyes open and sightless.

Luke walked back to Han. "Are you hurt?"

Han shook his head.

"The snow creature," Luke said. "Where did it come from?"

Han shrugged. Apparently he wasn't going to say anything.

"What happened to the baby?" Luke asked.

Han moved his leg aside and Luke saw Han had made a little shelter for the baby tauntaun, tucking it under his raised knees.

"Oh," Luke gasped, overwhelmed. It was a new life, where another, not old, lay dead a few feet away. He reached his hand down to touch it.

The baby tauntaun was looking up at Han and mewling. It was less than a meter tall, its body mostly rear legs, complete with barbed claws, but its little belly was fat and squishy, and its fur was white and soft looking, not slicked with the smelly oil that bedecked adult tauntauns.

Luke went over to his tauntaun and led it to Han. "Lemme try something," he told Han. He picked the baby up and showed it to his mount, who merely swung its head about. The baby, however, was kicking and screaming softly, and when Luke placed it back in the shelter Han created, it shrank against his boot and quieted.

"It wants you," Luke told Han. There was blood around the hood and shoulders of Han's coat. "Are you sure you're not hurt? Is that your blood? Or hers?"

Han's shoulder jerked, the clean one, but Luke wasn't sure if he'd received an answer.

"Echo Base knows where we are, right?"

The mention of Echo Base seemed to throw Han from his stupor. He brought his face from the baby to Luke. "That's why she didn't want to walk," he said, so quietly Luke had to lean forward. "She was- They made me take her, and she was -" He broke off roughly. "Fucking handler."

Luke nodded. "The time had come," was all he could think to say. The mother was supposed to die, while she brought life forth.

"That's such bullshit," Han said. "You gonna explain that to the baby?"

Luke nodded again in understanding. Other babies were born without losing their mothers. What if someone had said that to Luke when he was born? He knew absolutely nothing about his mother. He always assumed she had died with his father, on the navigation ship, but now saw he'd never really thought it through at all. Hardly gave a thought to her, which was so wrong, so unfair.

Luke had been two weeks old when delivered to the Lars' homestead. So his mother had died shortly after his birth. How would he feel, if he were able to understand it, fourteen days old, Uncle Owen saying _your mother had to die. Now, Biggs Darklighter, his mother is fine. She's alive, she watches him grow. Not you your mother. And that's how it had to be._

"I don't know, Han," he said softly.

"She just had a baby," Han said. "She was lying in the snow 'cause she just gave birth, and that fucking -" he stopped a moment, fury and hurt darkening his eyes. "Fucking, lazy creature. Not even lazy. Cheating. He just... he just took her. Started dragging her away."

"She wasn't able to defend herself," Luke said softly.

"Fuck. Everything was screaming. Everything. And the baby -" Han broke off again with a shake of his head. Luke put his hand in and the baby tauntaun let him pet it. He took his glove off, just for a moment he told himself. The fur was so soft. So beautiful. The big eyes so frightened.

"And I couldn't -" Han continued brokenly. Luke glanced sharply at him. He wasn't crying; Luke doubted there was anything anymore to make Han cry, but he was certainly upset. Han was more than angry and sad; he was hurt, Luke realized, betrayed.

"They fucking made me take her, and she fucking gives birth, and some fuck drags her away, and she's kicking and screaming and bleeding and -"

"Trying to get to her baby," Luke said. "Trying to live."

"Yeah."

 _Trying to live._ That was the heartbreak of it all. She didn't want to die. She had a baby. So why did it happen?

"Not because of you, Han."

"Fuck you." Han put his palm against his forehead and brought his other hand down to the baby, letting it bite the tip of a gloved finger and try and pull it off. The corner of Han's mouth twitched.

"Do you think it'll live?" Luke said.

"I have no idea," Han said fatalistically. He was exhausted, Luke saw.

"You know how some animals get their first meals from," Luke broke off. He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to doom this little, new creature to death, not when its mother had struggled so hard.

Han had lifted his head and was gazing at Luke's mount.

"Echo Base said they were sending out a team," Luke told him.

"Yours is a male," Han said.

"Yeah?" Luke said with interest. "How's it different?"

"The blue ring around the eyes. See it? Mine had more of a purple. I was stuck under her, when she, when she fell. And yours has no interest in the baby."

"No."

"Fathers can be like that."

"Yeah?" Luke wasn't sure that was true. Certainly Owen had taken up the role of father eagerly. Leia's father too. But, now that he thought about it, a Tuskan Raider, if he chose a mate that had borne another's children, he had those killed. Well, he let the desert kill them, but ultimately it was his responsibility.

Like a light turning on, Luke had it. While they waited for help the little baby mewled and Luke's mount stamped its - _his-_ feet, while Luke thought of mothers and fathers and life and death, and while Han repeated _fuck_ over and over, _fuck,_ Luke saw, in symbols and light, a boy. A boy who knew of coming life and who witnessed death and a father whose heart dried up like the desert and cast the boy out.

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Chewie came out with the replacement team. They had a third, riderless tauntaun with them.

Han scrambled to his feet, resting his weight on one leg. "Chewie!" he said harshly, before the team even reached them. "What the hell are you trying to prove?" The baby hid behind Han's boot, its face buried into the leather.

The man who held the rank of Lieutenant in the stable dismounted and moved to explore the scene of the kill. Hobbie was the man's partner, and he looked wide-eyed from Luke to Han, and then at Chewie. "We told him to turn back, soon as we saw it," Hobbie sputtered to Han, "but he wouldn't for some reason."

"Chewie," Luke breathed in consternation. If anyone was going to need a ride back it was the great Wookiee, who had dashed out into the snow with no covering or protection of any kind. Icicles formed from his moist breath around his muzzle, and his foot prints left streaks of blood in the snow.

 _No more blood,_ Luke said in prayer.

"'Cause he thinks he had to come. You big lug," Han limped over and whacked Chewie across the middle. "You saw a team go out. You know what the snow does to your feet. Why didn't you just let them handle it?"

Luke remembered now. Han had told them Chewie hated the snow, that he wouldn't go out in it. His body heat caused snow to melt and wet his fur immediately, and when he lifted the foot to take another step, the wet refroze just as quickly, until the poor Wookiee was walking on sharp shards of ice.

 _More blood,_ Luke thought, and wondered if there were any more snow creatures nearby. Maybe that's what had attracted the snow creature in the first place. "We'd better head in," he said nervously to the group.

He looked at Chewie's cut feet again. The Wookiee was far too big to be able to ride on a tauntaun at all. And it was a long walk back. He thought of the pack on each animal, and of the one Han reclaimed from its dead tauntaun. "I have an idea, Chewie." He lifted the flaps from the pack and pulled out the blanket. "It'll have to be cut," he said. "It means the warmer won't work. But it's better than nothing."

Chewie yowled something, Luke didn't know what, since it didn't mention Han or parts of a freighter, and Hobbie said, "Good idea, Luke."

"He says he appreciates it," Han translated.

Luke activated his lightsaber and sliced the blanket in half. Han helped him uncoil the elastic rope used for the shelters and in moments Chewie had a large, cumbersome covering for his two feet. But the tension had left his face and Luke could see he felt better. He yowled again, carefully patting Luke's hat so as not to dislodge it, and Luke distinctly heard 'thank you.'

The trainer returned from the kill site and got back on his own mount. "We'd better not delay any longer. You two are past your three hours and that storm is due to hit in two. We'll return to base in less than thirty minutes, I reckon."

Han scooped up the baby tauntaun. "I got Lucky," he said, and walked to the riderless tauntaun, who sniffed the baby interestedly. Luke mounted his own ride and directed it over to Han's.

Han wasn't quite right; the ring wasn't what Luke would call purple. It was still blue, the merest shade darker, discernible in the dark gray of the sky and not in the harsh glare of the stable.

"I'd say you got lucky," the trainer said.

"No, I mean I got Lucky." Han placed the baby in Luke's arm while he clumsily swung his sore leg over his mount. Then he held his arms out and Luke handed over the baby. "I named it Lucky."

Luke locked eyes with Han. "It's a good name," he said.

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Back at the stable Han's fury returned with the warmth. He left Lucky sitting in the saddle, and strode with an angry limp to the tauntaun handler that arranged for the mounts to go out.

"You motherfucker," Han growled, grabbing the man's jacket with one hand while the other reared back in a fist.

"Han!" Luke shouted, trying to move quickly.

"Learn your fucking animals, you fucker."

"Han," Luke tried pulling on Han's coat.

"She fucking-"

"Captain Solo!" Luke spun around and saw Leia, whose expression was changing from worried relief to alarmed anger. ""Drop him," she snapped.

Abruptly, Han's fist dropped and he seemed to slump against the trainer, pinning him to the wall.

"Somebody get him off me," the handler said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, none of us did."

Chewie was sitting on the snow, peeling the blanket layers off his feet, so Luke supported Han, propping a shoulder under Han's own. "So you are hurt?"

"I didn't feel it," Han said, his face pale. "It's cold out there."

Leia looked disturbed. "Take him to medical, Luke."

Han shook his head. "No, I'll just go to the _Falcon_."

"Don't be silly," she said. "You need to be looked at. Go to-"

"I can't, Princess, remember?" Han snarled. "I'm not to use the base unless it's for business purposes."

"I would consider patrol business, Captain, and therefore-"

"No, but that's volunt _eer_ ing," he said, drawing the word out in a sneer, "service without payment, so not really business, is it?"

Leia was glaring at him. "You're the one who agreed to the terms of the contract," she charged at him, and Luke thought the two spots of red on her cheek must do a lot to warm her up. "Just take him, Luke," she whipped her wrist toward the door. "I'll arrange that he gets treatment."

"You're the one that wrote it," Han called out as he and Luke left.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Luke asked.

"I don't know. I just like to have the last word," Han muttered.

"Volunteers have perks!" Leia shouted from the stable, getting the last word.

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Han sat on a cot, a blanket draped over his bare shoulders, an ice pack on his knee.

Luke was grateful to be in the medical ward. It was downright warm in here. He had removed his gloves and hat, and was thinking of opening his jacket. "I'm going to get sick often while we're on Hoth," he told Han. "Feels good in here."

Han grunted. "I've still got ice."

"It's for the swelling," Luke told him. His eyes passed over Han's wound. The snow creature had swept Han up in his kill strike on the tauntaun. The claws had gone through Han's thick coat to carve two long gashes stretching from below Han's shoulder to the back of his neck.

Luke felt young, like a boy, like he was invading Han's privacy, but Han didn't seem to care. Maybe it was the centuries-old Wookiee, and his sense of sacrifice, or the emotional ordeal Luke had witnessed in the snow, or Han's bare chest, the cuts deep enough that blood hadn't dried to a scab yet. The warmth felt right, comforting, but the room was clinical and sterile. The medical ward treated life, maintained it, but it had no sense of the great struggle life was.

Luke fought thinking of death, of the tauntaun, of his aunt and uncle, and instead focused on Han and Chewie. Han knew the struggle. Had it happened deliberately? That flash of insight...Was the tauntaun's destiny to haunt Han with something that had happened to him when he was a boy?

Han was a man now, and the medical room was helping him rebuild his walls; push the dead tauntaun down, somewhere Han wouldn't confront it. Boyhood was left far behind, the child grown into a man's body, fit and lean. Youth; powerless, undeveloped and weak, sniveling with grief and fear, was replaced by physical vitality that was driven to overcome everything.

It was beginning to feel like a wait. Han was brought to a room right away and told to take his shirt off while a medic took his information. Luke found it interesting that while Han could rattle off his weight and height, he faltered at his date of birth.

"Don't you know when your birthday is?" Luke teased.

Han gave a slight, sheepish smile. "Trying to think of the one I gave them when I was debriefed after the Death Star."

Luke frowned. "You gave a false one? Why would you need to do that?"

Han shrugged, wincing slightly. "It's useful."

A medic popped his head in the door. "Sorry to keep you waiting. We're trying to locate some antibiotic ointment. Those creatures have some filthy claws."

"No problem," Luke answered for Han. He winked. "We get to stay in here longer."

Chewie also found relief in the warm room. He was sitting on the same cot as Han, using clippers to trim the fur on the bottoms of his feet. He growled something to Han.

"Just don't go outside again," Han responded.

"Why did you," Luke asked, "when you knew the snow would do that to your feet?"

Chewie gave an answer and Han provided a translation, a loose one, Luke figured. "'Cause he thought he had to."

There it was again, something between these two that Luke hadn't figured out yet. Chewie said something, directly to Han, who sat shirtless and impenetrable, so Luke filed it away to ask about later.

"Chewie," Luke decided they might as well play a game while they were waiting. "How do you say 'Han is in medical?"

Chewie told him, enunciating clearly, and Luke pursed his lips, concentrating. "How about 'Han is on a bed'?"

"Teach him 'Luke is an asshole'," Han interrupted.

Chewie said something and Luke couldn't help but laugh. "Did he say it? I heard 'Luke'." The door swished open and Luke turned to see if the medic had finally found some ointment.

But it was Leia who entered. She stepped over the threshold, a large duroplast box in her arms, and stopped, sending her eyes around to finally settle on Han.

Maybe she sensed it somehow, Luke thought, the struggle. Or maybe, as empathetic as she was, she was just upset by the loss of the tauntaun and what had happened to Han.

Luke watched her eyes follow the vein that snaked up Han's forearm, visible along his bicep, disappearing under the fold of the blanket. They'd only been on Hoth three days, Luke and Leia, covering their bodies in layer after layer of fabric, that the sight of naked skin, Han's chest, must seem quite out of place.

A noise was coming from the box. Luke went over to relieve her of it. "What have you got?"

She blinked, and tore her eyes to Luke. "The baby tauntaun. It won't stop crying." Her eyes returned to Han. "They're wondering if maybe it imprinted on you."

Luke placed the box on the floor under where Han's boots dangled from the cot. "Here you go, Lucky." He placed the crying baby on Han's lap.

Han scooted back to make room and lifted his arm. The baby tauntaun nestled to his side and sat down. "Great," he said. "Just what I need."

"And you're just what it needs," Luke said. The ring around its eye was black.

Life was struggle, and the baby had learned it first hand but was finding a way to cope. It had found not just a rescuer, but a patron, a friend. It trusted, Luke saw. Trust. That's what the boy had lost, long ago, in the moments after his own struggle, grown into a man fit and lean and vital. The boy lost all trust but the man allowed himself to be trusted.

Leia approached the cot, entranced by the silence. "It stopped crying," she said in awe. Her eyes flitted to Han's face and then dropped again. "It ate. One of the adults dug something under the snow for it. But it wouldn't stop crying."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Han asked. His tone was skeptical, but he was petting the top of the baby's head.

"Raise it," Leia said.

"Hey, Chewie," Luke said softly, "how do you say 'Han is a father'?"

Han threw a gauze bandage at Luke and it fluttered uselessly to the ground. "Asshole. You're too young to know anything about being a father."

"What, and you're too old?"

"I'm too human," Han said. "You do it, Princess. Keep it in your office, bring it to meetings."

"I'm just as human as you," she said. "And anyway, it imprinted on you."

"Just my luck."

"It was lucky," Luke said. "Lucky for it. That's why you named it Lucky, isn't it?"

"I wonder when we'll learn if it's male or female," Leia said.

Chewie said something to Han, and Luke picked up 'quarters' and 'ship', but everything else blurred into dissonant noise.

"No," Han answered rebelliously, and Chewie spoke again. "And no, I won't stay down in the stable. What are you, crazy?

"What's he saying?" Luke asked, looking back and forth between the two.

"He says until it outgrows the imprint stage that it's going to have to follow me around all the time." Han glared at Chewie like it was the Wookiee's fault. "It's not staying on the ship."

Chewie chuckled.

The medic came back in the room. "Well," he announced. "After some discussion, we've decided that an antiseptic flush should be enough."

"I thought you were looking for antibiotic ointment?" Luke asked.

The medic looked apologetically at Leia. "We're just not set up fully operational yet."

"I got some on the ship," Han told them.

"You probably won't need it," the medic said.

"Is it even warm enough for a bacteria to grow here?" Leia asked.

"The snow creature's claws had some. We're culturing it now. Probably from its victims, but you know, life adapts," the medic shrugged.

"Life does adapt," Luke agreed. "Like Lucky, imprinting on a human. You'll be fine, won't you, Lucky, huh?" Luke's voice got high and he cooed at the tauntaun while Leia smiled tolerantly. "Sure you will," he pet the baby's fur with his ungloved hand. "It's not smelly, or greasy right now. Lucky for you you're cute."

"Wanna be a father, kid?" Han said, watching Luke with playful eyes.

Luke smiled. "It happened this suddenly for my uncle," he said. "I never realized it before. I bet Ben didn't even know how to contact them that he was bringing me. Just sprung me on them."

The medic worked on Han's shoulder and Lucky sat contentedly at his side. There was no snow, no smell. "My aunt and uncle wouldn't have been prepared. No diapers. No cradle."

"They had to adapt," Leia said.

"Yeah." He smiled. "They probably kept me in a duroplast box til they got supplies."

"And you drank blue milk from a funnel," Han imagined.

Luke laughed. "Maybe. They adapted pretty well, I think." He continued to pet Lucky, discovering it liked its head scratched where the horns would grow. "I'd like to be a father," he said, talking more to himself. "I think it would be pretty neat." He looked in turns to Han and Leia, his eyes shining, his aunt and uncle in the room.

"I used to feel sorry for myself," he told them quietly, "little orphan Luke who never knew his parents. You guys didn't feel that way, I know. You were a dream come true for your mother, Leia." He met Han's eyes, which were dark and warning, completely what Luke expected, and he smiled at him. "And you've never said anything, Han, but I think I know what you'd say."

Leia looked at him oddly.

"Looking at Lucky, though, I can't help feeling sorry for my father. What he missed out on."

They were all silent, watching Lucky's eyes grow heavy as Luke continued to pet it. Chewie sighed heavily and Han tried to turn his head to him, though the medic stopped him. "I know, pal," Han said.

"What is it?" Leia asked.

"Chewie's got a cub on Kasshyyk," Han explained.

"Get him home, Han," Luke said sternly.

"I do sometimes."

"Sometimes? That's not enough." Chewie waved his hands at Luke, who got a sense he was being told, "it's enough."

Leia was lost in her own thoughts, staring at Lucky. "I can't imagine becoming a mother," she said, as if the words were pulled from her. "Before...before, it was expected. I didn't really think about it then, just knew that someday, I would. But now..." She stopped, staring at Han's knee. "...it seems another life."

"You can try being a father with me and Luke, Sweetheart," Han offered. "It's a little different than being a mother, I hear, but maybe it's not so bad. I think Lucky's going to be a handful."


	16. Window of Warmth

Luke quickly developed a reputation on Hoth. It was different than his usual one, the one about being the hero, and Luke found he rather liked this one. Because of his propensity to talk to anyone, anything. Tauntaun-

"All you say to them is rikm rakm," Han said.

"They make a lot of noises," Luke protested about the tauntauns.

"What do you say, Sweetheart?" Han asked Leia, his eyes bright. "Want to learn new language after your Shyriiwook studies?"

"No," Leia said flatly.

\- or droid

"How do you understand those beeps?" Wedge had said in bewilderment about R2.

"He's a know it all," Hobbie said about C-3PO.

"I can't stand listening to him," Wedge said. "Such a prick. For metal."

Or Han, "hear me snoring, Goldenrod?"

But C-3PO was his. Yes, he was all of those things, prejudiced and pessimistic, too, but he was Luke's. Only he let Leia use him more.

His reputation was that of a nice guy; friendly, dependable; a hard worker, one who talked to anything.

Something was different about Hoth, and it wasn't just the cold. Luke couldn't really say how yet, except that he had a new reputation, but he gave it a lot of thought as he went about his day.

All of the places were different, really, if one thought about putting it in a list. Physically, each one had been unique.

"Master Luke, the specific physical features of a place are referred to as the geography," C-3PO had instructed him when he brought it up to Leia, the fussy protocol droid working at her side and unable to not insert himself in a conversation.

He'd lived in a jungle and beside an ocean; he'd batted bugs and now he bundled up to protect himself from the cold.

Hoth was deadly, all on its own. Maybe that's what was so different. The Empire threatened each of their locations, but as Han was fond of saying to Leia when she complained about why he brought the _Falcon_ in so fast and hard, life was full of asteroids and he was going to have all the fun he could before one hit him. Luke could have drowned in the great ocean where the sheltiv swam, or been attacked by something in the jungle, but those environments were passive. You created your own danger. Here, if you slept wrong, you might lose a toe to the cold.

Then why did he feel so at ease here? He'd hated those awful insects on Bug Base, how they interfered with everything, how he had to clean their corrosive goo off his X-Wing and C-3PO.

The cold interfered here, but for some reason he didn't mind as much. Maybe because it was cleaner? C-3PO went into automatic shutdown mode every afternoon when the temperature in the command center reached a certain low. The speeders were still not working. Luke hadn't left the planet since he arrived. He wasn't used to being dirtside for so long.

Funny, back on Tatooine he barely knew that expression, dirtside. There was no need to know it when you never left. Even flying in his Skyhopper the desert was always below him.

But he wasn't anxious about not flying. He still had his job, he still was sent on patrols. It was different, sure. He rode on an animal's back instead of inside a cockpit. He was exposed to the air, bitterly cold, a breath warmer than the vacuum of space, but the endless white of the ice plains wasn't all that different than the infinite blackness of space.

He hadn't been on a base before that was only partially complete. Echo Base was having some growing pains. This shouldn't make a big difference, but it did, in many ways. The arrival of a transport, its fifty passengers and twelve X-Wings was providing a new challenge.

For months, the only inhabitants were the human crew that built it. The hangar served as a residence hall, and in the empty, cavernous space meant for the future of a docked fleet, they had piled malfunctioning droids and other pieces of equipment they'd had to make do without since the freezing temperatures rendered them useless.

Winter Wet season struck in full force. High in the atmosphere funnel clouds of high velocity whirled non-stop, and ship traffic was halted. Even day patrols on the backs of tauntauns over the snow could only happen during the Window of Warmth.

General Rieekan had coined the term for the period of day when the temperatures in the underground ice cavern warmed just enough that the equipment functioned. Personnel spent a whole day getting ready for the next day's Window. The slick ice was actually a help, because without the frictionless surface, how else would they manage to drag support buttresses to the north wing. The command center desperately collected as much information as it could from space, reeling in radar, sonar, echoes of transmissions and ghostly trails of ship emissions. Then the Window closed, and everything slowed.

Right now they had about two hours to work with droids and machinery. The scientists were hoping, as Hoth orbited around its star, that when Winter Wet gave way to Spring Wet, the Window of Warmth would remain open longer.

With more ships occupying the space and a barracks wing opened, only Han and Chewie remained on board their ship during the night cycle, but the hangar was still largely regarded as a giant lounge.

The construction crews were used to gathering there, and the tradition continued. Han's wasn't the only patio set up. The techs had declared their own territory, and the engineers had erected one of the survival shelters ("figures they would," was Wedge's comment.)

Luke and the Rogues hung out on Han's patio, playing cards, throwing snow balls at targets, and drinking tea with a shot of brandy. Even Leia came down.

At first her presence made the Rogue's nervous. They felt they had to watch their language, the topics of conversation, not play games. Luke would watch her arrive, how she greeted him with an apprehensive smile, and disappear into the _Falcon_ to drink tea with Chewie.

Han's idea was she couldn't bear to spend another moment with High Command, even if was just to listen to Dodonna's snores through the thin wall, but Luke suspected that she didn't want to be alone.

For a while it looked like the Rogues would split off and form their own patio, until the time Han pretended with Luke they were having tea with royalty, and they extended their pinkies and had a ridiculous conversation in a high, false accent about gardening, which neither knew anything about, and Leia's snowball landed with accuracy on Han's mug, splashing tea on his pants. He'd had to go inside and change, and Luke and the Rogues listened with amused expressions as Han and Leia loudly argued about garden parties.

Personnel traipsed in the long passages running through the north-south terminal of the base from quarters, to the command center, and east-west to the mess and stable. In just a matter of a few days, the snow covering the floors of the passages got tromped into a hard ice that was slick and bumpy at the same time.

Each had their own way of navigating. Chewie wouldn't walk around at all; apparently Han's suggestion to just not go out in the snow had been treated as Captain's orders. He paved the area of the Falcon's patio with blankets and pallets, and he stayed there as much as he could.

Leia managed moving about in a way Han called cute: she hugged the ice wall, using a gloved hand to keep purchase, and took tiny steps, sometimes on her toes.

Han's method of navigating the slippery corridors was to run, then ease off in a high-speed slide, arms waving to maintain his balance, and when he slowed, to run again.

Some were better in the snow than others, and to Luke's chagrin, he found that he was probably the worst.

It had been Rogue's joke the first days that Luke, son of sand and suns, should not walk the icy passages of Hoth without escort. Luke had probably earned this lofty proclamation himself by falling more than others, but he hadn't asked for help, except to get up one time, and he was by no means the only person having trouble staying upright.

The Rogues would line up behind their Commander, Wedge's hands pushing on Luke's back until he began to glide on the ice. Luke never lifted a foot. He kept his arms raised a bit for balance, in case Lucky came to knock them down, and he just sailed from place to place, a stream of pilots parading behind him, Wedge shouting, "make way for the Boss," Zev laughing, "comin' in like a Wing."

This only lasted a couple of days. It was funny, moving from the sims training room to the mess, through the hangar, and it got a laugh from everyone. Even Leia laughed, who was probably happier that Luke was laughing than at the situation itself, but General Dodonna, who had yet to allow himself to show a sense of humor, ordered durocrete blocks placed down the centers of the passages and circulated a memo that there should be no...Luke tried to recall the wording exactly...yes, it specifically mentioned cavorting. There should be no cavorting in the passages. Everyone needed to comport themselves - comport was another word Luke had to ask C-3PO about- with dignity.

And now there was a baby tauntaun undeniably cavorting through the passages, and General Dodonna permitted it.

It was a charming sight. Lucky often got in the way, dashing ahead of Han, then circling back to make sure he hadn't disappeared. People tripped or dropped things. C-3PO actually was knocked down so many times that Luke began to suspect Han of training Lucky.

This was Hoth. Something _was_ different about this base compared to the others. The ice was as bad as the bugs, maybe worse, and the landscape was far bleaker than the ocean of Calvunca. It was difficult here, yet it was better. Incomplete, and slippery, and dull, but Luke thought it was moments like these he would remember more than anything else.

It was so cold here, so dangerously cold, and yet there was warmth.

And suddenly Luke had it. Lucky made the base different. Lucky brought the warmth. No other place he'd lived had something like Lucky; something young and innocent and vulnerable. Except themselves, but it took looking at something else to see it. In a way, the baby tauntaun symbolized the Alliance, and the snow creature was the Empire. Everyone saw a bit of themselves in Lucky.

Except Leia. She was one who remained unthawed by the presence of the orphaned tauntaun. He didn't expect her to participate in beetle boring, but Han was a friend, charged to help raise a baby animal, and she took no part. Luke helped find food, helped distract the baby from noticing Han's absence when he ducked inside the _Falcon._

Luke found Lucky irresistible. An infant tauntaun was soft, furry and warm, cute. Leia was unmoved. It puzzled Luke. She was usually so compassionate. How was she immune to Hoth's warmth?

The story went around faster than Luke sliding on the ice. It wouldn't make the history books, like the tragic Princess that lost her planet, or the heroic Farm Boy who blew up the Death Star, but it was one of those moments that people here would share the rest of their lives; the day the Smuggler saved a tauntaun from the claws of a snow creature.

No one was sure Lucky would survive past the first day. The infant had imprinted on Han and seemed content to nap with him for a bit in the medcenter while they recovered from their ordeal, until it got hungry.

"What do I do?" Han asked Luke over the frail shrieks.

Luke was in as much of a loss as Han. "Bring it to the stable?" he suggested.

They braved the stench and Han deposited Lucky in front of another female.

And thus they began to learn all sorts of things about tauntauns, things they never had thought would be useful in fighting the Empire.

Life teemed under the snow. From watching the female, Han learned to dig out a patch of snow past the most recent Wet Winter falls, he would find lichens easily. Sometimes he exposed a long, many-legged beetle racing to burrow back under the snow, and would fish it out for Lucky, who slurped it up happily.

The beetles, it turned out, were very high in fat and calorie, exciting the scientists, who realized this was an adaptation to survive in the cold.

"If they start serving beetle stew in the mess I will seriously consider quitting," Wedge said.

They had no idea how often little Lucky would need to eat but Han refused to stay in the smelly stables and Luke couldn't blame him, the stench was so bad, and Lucky refused to stay anywhere Han wasn't. He had told Chewie he wouldn't allow the tauntaun on the ship and he was true to his word, but he compromised. He brought a pallet to the patio area, and fashioned a bed off the snow, and for four hours during the tauntaun's night, he stayed out there with it.

He took a bit of ribbing with surly acceptance. Rogue Squadron called him Papa Solo and General Rieekan came down to the _Falcon_ himself to see, teasing that since there was no paternity leave in his contract, Han was still obligated to do ground patrols.

When Lucky was three days old, another tauntaun gave birth. And two days after that another baby joined the stable. The handlers discovered the females all raised the young communally, and let them out the stable chute to feed, one female tauntaun and Han always standing guard against snow creatures.

Han, not enlisted and not obligated to stay, was stuck on Hoth as much as everyone else due to Lucky. Everyone thought they knew his story, too, though how, Luke couldn't say. Luke was one who knew Han best, yet he didn't know anything about his story for certain. All kinds of things were said, and Luke explained to himself that Han must be contributing to the rumor mill for his own entertainment. Han either didn't use words much or he used them in ways they weren't supposed to be used, obliterating all meaning.

Lucky was going to ruin his reputation. All of them.

He was mostly silent with Lucky, the human and the tauntaun, Papa Solo and Baby Lucky. Luke heard what people said and he remembered what he used to think of Han and how that changed. What he saw now was patience, tolerance, and a quiet observation that was almost sad.

Lucky was growing. Slowly, but Luke noticed changes. And the weather was changing. The almost constant funnel clouds that prevented liftoffs were quieted and Luke didn't hear thunder anymore outside. The snow was wetter, heavier. The tauntauns grew restless. Those that were out on patrol chuffed at being led through the chutes.

"I don't think we really tamed them," Wedge remarked one day as he and Luke finished a patrol shift. "I think they just let us think so."

Luke agreed. "They'd be inside some form of shelter anyway during hibernation. But that's Hoth for you. You learn one thing and the planet tosses it out with the sour milk."

"Huh?" Wedge said. "Sour milk? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know," Luke said like it was obvious. "It's an expression. The milk sours after the first fast is broken. It gets too hot and you throw it out."

Wedge shook his head, chuckling. "You are such a desert rat. You know what we say on Corellia? Toss it out with the bathwater."

"Well, whoever heard of bathwater," Luke grumped.

"It's snowing again. You up for some beetle boring?"

"Sure."

Patrols now carried duroplast buckets and finished patrols with the sport of hunting the burrowing beetles under the snow. Hobbie kept a daily tally and at the end of the day presented the bucket to Han and announced the winner, who received one sock and a mocking hand shake from Papa Solo.

"Where's Lucky?" Luke asked the handler as they got off their tauntaun mounts. Between them, he and Wedge had collected eleven beetles.

"Went looking for Solo," came the answer. Lucky now knew how to move through the passages alone and locate the _Millennium Falcon._ "The babies usually take a nap this time of day."

Out of fearful habit, Luke swept his eyes over the hangar entrance. He'd never told anyone about Darth Vader's Force presence when he first arrived, and sometimes the vision recurred. Vader only stood in the same place now; he didn't follow Luke along the passages. Maybe the Force realized how bad a fright Luke had received. Vader never spoke and Luke never asked him too. He just stood there, as if the hangar was a boundary he could not cross, and if Luke would describe him, he'd say he had the same quiet and sad observance Han held with Lucky.

With relief, he noted the hangar was Force-free.

This is what the Force was giving him lately. Or rather, not giving; not granting him access, but pulling him away, taking him somewhere there were no memories.

If Luke didn't know he was Force-sensitive he would think he was losing his mind. There were moments when he felt an odd return to awareness, as if he hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Guiltily, he wondered if he would be the one to let the Empire in. Three hours on patrol; all that white combined with the body heat of tauntaun and rider and he didn't remember a damn thing.

The Force wouldn't do that to him, though, would it? Make him lax?

 _Only if it is your destiny._ Ben's voice.

What kind of nonsense was that? Luke thought. _Ben, get out here._ But Ben only said _when you are ready._

Luke didn't push it. It hadn't worked previously. Just shook his head marginally, irritated. Damned Force had its own ideas.

And there were meals in the mess - he sat with people; there was talk, but he couldn't say if he participated, if he even _heard_ it.

He caught Wedge looking at him sometimes askance, in sims, in their room.

He didn't really enjoy these moments in the Force. He had no clue when they were going to happen. He felt like he was stolen. Deep down he wanted to accuse the Force of being selfish but he buried the thought. The Force had been trying to reach him since he met Ben. This was just another method. And maybe the ease with which he disappeared from his present consciousness meant he was growing stronger. He needed to be more patient. There was nothing he could do to get ready, but apparently the Force was getting him ready.

Lucky was prodding Han in the back, nudging him with budding horns, causing the hydrospanner in Han's hands to miss its mark. Han swore lightly, gathered up a fistful of snow, and threw it. "Get out of here, you pest," he said, and set about placing the spanner on a bolt as Lucky dashed after the snow.

Luke grinned. The one thing the Force had told him was that Lucky was female. The eye ring was still black and no one knew how else to learn a tauntaun's gender – one handler had gotten a mean trampling when he tried to lift a tail -so most referred to Lucky as 'it'.

Why the Force thought it important to learn whether Lucky was male or female was beyond Luke. Surely there were more important, bigger things to learn.

Why would the Force want him to know about Lucky?

Luke wondered if there was such a thing as tauntaun lore, like humans had, stories of adventure and excitement, of heroes larger than life. Were they sharing their mythology when they touched snouts like that?

Lucky was a most extraordinary tauntaun. Snatched from Death, snatched from her mother, brimming with Life. She accepted the humans, and her kind accepted her. She had two worlds.

Luke halted in his tracks. Dimly, he heard Wedge greet Han. "Got a delivery for you, Papa Solo."

Four worlds. Death and Life, Humans and Tauntauns. Extraordinary, indeed. Again Luke wondered how Leia could not bring herself to appreciate Lucky's situation. Leia was another one whose world's were split. She too had Death and Life. She'd lost her kind, and the other humans barely accepted her.

Lucky was back, hitting Han again with her head.

And Luke? Luke had sand and snow, Force and Alliance. He wasn't the same as Leia. One world he moved in took him away, out; the other gave him warmth. He looked at Han, recalling his personification of the Force in his vision, helping him choose between going Alliance or Jedi. _I choose Alliance._

 _I belong._ The realization was powerful, emotional.

He'd never had much of that. He'd been a Skywalker while those that raised him were Lars. It was all the Force's doing, he decided, disgruntled, why he had trouble making friends, why he'd been an outsider, why his head was in the clouds. The Force had been there all along, and had snatched him away from the life he was supposed to be living, it seemed only for its own selfish moment, because what had Luke gotten out of it? Nothing.

But in the Alliance he'd found a place to belong, and he treasured those moments when he truly felt it, understood he was part of a human herd. Beetle boring, sailing in an ice parade, drinking tea with Han, speaking in false accents.

Han reached out a hand. "Lucky. Stop." And she used her back legs to kick up a spray of snow all over Han.

Luke laughed. "Found another project, huh, Han?"

"Yeah," Han said tersely, trying to maintain his hold while Lucky pushed on his back again. "Hey. I said stop." He reached out a hand to push against the tauntaun and she stuck her head in his armpit. "Puttin' this panel back on. Chewie took it off so he could walk on the insulation. I'm gonna have to redo it, though, at some point," Han complained. "He flattened it all out."

"Are we up for a rematch, Solo?" Wedge asked. "I am sorely in need of socks."

"Maybe you oughta try sewing them instead of gambling for them, Antilles," Han said.

"That's too much work. See you after mess, then. Bye, Boss."

"See ya, Wedge. Come here, Lucky." Luke made a ball from snow in his fist and packed it into ice. "Let Papa work." He threw it, and looked around. The patio seemed neater. The crates were still out, and the sleeping pallet but some blankets and mats were folded carefully and laid on the pallet and Han was reattaching pieces of the _Falcon_ Chewie had dismantled. "Are you flying out?" he asked with interest.

Lucky returned with the snowball and brought it to Han. "Thinkin' about it," Han said. He threw the ice ball at Luke. "I need supplies."

Luke felt a flutter of excitement that they might send him past orbit. "They're letting us now? Now that it's Spring Wet? What could you need that's not here?" he asked, ducking as the ball went past his head and the baby tauntaun gave chase.

"Food, basically. Down to ration bars. Chewie's hungry. If the snow didn't cut his feet he'd hunt snow creatures I expect."

"Where is Chewie?"

Han tossed his head towards the ramp. "On board. Lucky don't like him. None of them do. I think he reminds them of a snow creature, only he's not white."

"Is Leia coming down for her language lesson?"

"Should be." Han held the hydrospanner in place but paused a moment to look at Luke. "She hasn't missed a night yet, has she?"

Luke nodded his agreement. "Can't you start eating in the mess? Pay for your food?" Luke asked.

Han threw Luke a dirty look. "Would you pay for this food?"

Luke laughed. "I get your point." He went over to the snow bucket and fished around, finally grasping a many-legged beetle. He waved it at Lucky, who watched him with bright eyes.

"Rikm rakm," Luke said. She wouldn't take the beetle wriggling in between his fingers, so he placed it on the ground.

"Quick, get it," Han said. "Before it burrows."

"Oh, sorry," Luke said. He got on his knees and stuck his fingers in the snow. The beetle was gone and Lucky had lost interest, wandering back to Han to kick more snow on him. Maybe she wasn't hungry now. "I'm just going to sit here while you work and wait for Leia," he told Han, who waved the hydrospanner in sloppy acknowledgement.

Luke closed his eyes. _I belong, Force. I won't let you take me anymore. But I invite you._

He was in the hangar, and he was outside. It was snowing. He wasn't cold, standing there from inside, even as flakes melted on his cheek, swirled around him. He could hear each individual snow flake. It filled him with awe.

Out of himself, even out of his own species, Luke could actually _see_ it now. Ben had explained it as an energy field created by all living things. Well, he was alive, and so was Leia, and Han, and everyone at this base, but he'd never noticed it before.

And this was it, what the Force really was. It wasn't moving lightsabers around on his lap, or deflecting blaster shots, or covering his eyes when he needed to see.

Individual snowflakes… he closed his eyes to see Tatooine. _I want to see it, he told the air. Where I've been before._

His lip twitched. Adolescent Luke, walking the sands. Kicking into the desert with a dejected, disappointed foot. _Oh, Luke._ Beru, and there it was, the Force, a part of her. Knowing him, putting him in her heart, and he couldn't stray. Simple things in life, the Force present in each grain of sand.

The Force, bringing him Leia. Why he'd fallen back so hard on his rear when he accessed the portion of the hologram stashed inside R2D2. Hitting him with destiny so he couldn't say no.

The leaves of trees, the great sea, even the bugs. And everyone moving in and out, around.

When he thought of Ancestor Luke he was tall, taller than even a Wookiee, and he came down from the stars, his stance powerful and gigantic, looking down on everyone. And he had nothing; his descendants had vanished. There was no one to tell a story to. Han and Chewie were gone, or specks. Leia he could see, a bright light on the earth while he spanned the heavens.

 _Is that what I want?_

It was too much. Too much, without question. Ben, a Jedi, was able to be apart but also with. Luke was losing the with, and he didn't like it. Why live at all, why have the Force, if it took you away so you didn't even remember living.

Maybe Ben had lost the with too. Everyone knew of him; everyone called him the crazy old hermit. Owen had known he was a Jedi. The crazy wizard, he'd called him. But Luke had always liked Ben. There was nothing wrong with being reclusive, and he was kind. Maybe the Force connected them. Maybe to everyone but Luke Ben was crazy.

Luke wanted to learn all there was about the Force, but he didn't want to be thought of as crazy.

Now he knew why Force-sensitive children left their families at an early age and went to train in the ways of the Jedi, as Leia had told him of the tradition. Maybe if he'd had that, he wouldn't feel so awkward and alone now in the Force.

He was in the _Falcon's_ lounge, and there was a mug of tea in front of him, and Leia and Chewie and Han were looking at him.

"Did you hear me?" Han asked.

Luke blinked. Time had passed. He had moved. And all the while snow fell. "Yeah." And he had. He hadn't, but Han had spoken, and his voice drifted away into the Force, and it was there for Luke to access. "You said Lucky's fur is turning gray on the back of her head."

Leia looked down at her hands.

"Her?" Han said. "Who said anything about that?"

"Do you think Lucky's a girl or boy?" Luke asked, turning to Leia.

"Girl," she said softly, but with surety.

Luke beamed. "She is a girl."

Han snorted. "You don't know that."

"I do. I learned it..." his voice paled a little, knowing how silly it sounded. "...from Forcing."

Han shook his head. "Even if you turn out to be right, I'm not impressed."

"Why not?" Leia asked. "Luke seems very certain. And I think she is, too."

"Fifty-fifty chance," Han said. "Even money. It's one or the other."

Han would not give the Force any credit, Luke knew. "You must think something. I never hear you call her 'it', like the others."

Leia nodded. "He always refers to Lucky by name."

"Or 'baby'," Han added.

"But I've got a hunch," Luke protested.

"It's called a guess. Let's make it interesting. I'll go against your hunch, just for the hell of it. A pair of socks says Lucky's a male."

"You're on."

"How about you, Chewie?"

Chewie answered and Han's mouth was open to translate when Leia held her palm out. "Let me. He says he has no idea what Lucky is, but..." she frowned, "he stands next to you?"

"He means he'll take the same bet as me."

"I'd like to win a pair of your socks, Chewie," Luke said brightly.

Han laughed. "If he had any. Then he'd be able to walk around here."

Chewie added something else and Han snapped, "You're just jealous. It's not my fault you scare Lucky. What about you, Princess? Care to bet?"

"No. There's no need to bet. She's a girl." She lifted her head in an imperious manner and changed the subject. "During tomorrows' Window of Warmth we're testing the speeders."

"Great," Han said sarcastically. "Looking forward to another failure. I'm playing cards. I'll go see if any Rogues want your bet, Luke." He grabbed his tea and stomped out of the lounge.

The problem with the malfunctioning speeders was a bit of a mystery. Luke and the other Rogues spent many hours on Han's patio discussing it. Space travel, flying a ship through temperatures much colder than Hoth's surface, had been achieved thousands of years ago, and yet on Hoth nothing worked for more than a few hours. Luke didn't think Han was being pessimistic thinking the test would fail; he expected as much himself.

The engineers were at pains to know why. Luke heard talk of electric wind, ionic polarization, among other theories in the mess, but he really didn't understand much of it.

While the talk went around him and over his head, he noticed Leia deep in the conversations, listening intently. He thought she couldn't possibly understand it. She was a Princess and a Senator; she wrote speeches and negotiated. Fundamentally, sure, she must know what he knew about things like ion charges and gravity and planetary poles, but this was some serious science, and his understanding did not improve just by listening to repeated terminologies.

Then again, she was so much more determined than he was. She was probably studying the science at night, after her Shyriiwook lessons.

What had she said in the hologram? _I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person…._

She was supposed to meet Ben, not Luke.

Luke gazed at her intently as she sipped tea. Destiny….what if it had been her? Honestly, Luke thought, he would be less surprised to hear the Force was Leia's destiny than he had been to learn of his own.

So many questions. Was he alone? If a Jedi Order had existed, surely there were hundreds, if not thousands, of beings who felt the Force. And if it was true that Jedi weren't supposed to have families, then surely it wasn't only hereditary. If the Force was created by all living things, then did that mean the Force created life? Did it choose to manifest itself in a being like Luke?

It seemed to be rare. Unless there were others here unaware of it, their heads in the clouds all their lives, no one like Ben to help them take their first steps in a larger world.

He scanned his compatriots on Echo Base. In the mess, in the hangar, it was always the same. He saw Ancestor Luke, huge and alone, Leia's bright light a speck at his feet.

 _Leia?_

In the small moments the Force gave him she was there, small and almost indistinguishable, the only thing other than himself he saw.

In the other moments, the ones he wanted and knew he would remember, she was there beside him; his friend and Princess, a part of his life.

"The insulated wrapping kept Threepio functioning, so they are going to try it around the engine core," Leia was saying.

"Anything is worth a shot," Luke said mildly. Tow cables had been the first experiment, but it had failed immediately. The cables were now only good for bringing a stalled speeder in, and they had to wait until the next Window of Warmth before that could be done. "Can I sit on in your lesson today?"

"Of course," both Chewie and Leia said.

"I want to have a conversation," Luke said, as Leia looked at him with her brows up. "Immersion. I need to clear some things up."

"What about?" he thought Chewie asked, and he nodded, glad for the encouragement.

"About...alright." Luke placed his elbow on the holochess table and got serious. "You know how everyone talks here and there's lots of stories?"

"You mean like the one about you and Wedge locking yourselves in the mess cooler because it was warmer than the mess itself?"

Luke flushed "Or you reconfiguring room-to-room alarms so Dodonna's went off every hour and a half?"

Leia's mouth was open in indignation. "I did no such thing."

"That was Han," Chewie broke in.

"Exactly," Luke stated triumphantly. "But they're saying it was Leia. So how did the story go so wrong?"

"That would be Han again," Chewie said.

Luke was well versed in Shyriiwook pronunciaton of 'Han'. "I want to straighten a few stories out." Chewie said something else that sounded encouraging. "I have heard," Luke began slowly, sorting through all the bits of conflicting information, "that he's a thief and you have to check your pockets after standing next to him."

"That's ridiculous," Leia scoffed.

Chewie provided an answer. Luke listened carefully, but all he got was 'things' and 'must'. He turned to Leia. "Did you get that? Should we get 3PO?"

Her large eyes were on Chewie's. "He said Han has taken - what's the word for thief? - but only when he is paid."

Chewie interrupted with a correction.

"Only when there is payment. No? A payoff?" She looked at Luke. "Payoff."

"So no one needs to check their pockets," Luke concluded, and Chewie shook his head. "Did he spread that one?"

"No," Chewie said. "People know what he is, and assume that's what he'll always be."

Luke nodded. "I understood that," he said to Leia, and she smiled. "Next one. They say he can plot a series of jumps that gets you there faster than a nav'puter's route."

"What do you think?" Chewie asked.

Luke bobbed his head from side to side. "Yeah, I bet that's true. And I bet he spread that himself." Leia and Chewie laughed.

"Hey!" they heard a shout from down the ramp. "What kind of fun are you having in there, Boss?" Wedge called. "I'm losing my socks. Maybe I should play with you!"

"What else?" Chewie prodded, ignoring the voices from outside the lounge.

"I don't know who would spread this one. That he's a spice addict."

Both Chewie and Leia snorted. "He wouldn't spread that himself. Addicts have self-hatred. He definitely does not hate himself," Leia said.

"There are things about himself he doesn't like," Chewie said.

"We all have that," Leia responded. "He's not an addict. Anyway, where would he get it?"

"That's why he leaves. How they explain it," Luke said.

Leia shook her head. "He's been stuck here for weeks. He'd be deep in withdrawal, wouldn't he? And he's fine. Just because he hasn't shaved doesn't mean he's got the shakes. Ridiculous. Why don't people think about what they're hearing?"

"This one is stupid too. That the only reason he hasn't sold me or Leia out is he's waiting for a bigger payday." Luke looked around but both Chewie and Leia were silent a moment.

Finally, Leia said, quietly, "I've even heard that. On Command level."

Chewie took a big breath. "He says things he isn't or wouldn't do, but he would never say that."

Leia nodded. "What would be the bigger payday anyway?"

"Not just us," Luke realized. "The whole Alliance."

"But there's never the whole Alliance. He doesn't know where Mon Mothma is - does he, Chewie? I've heard that one, too."

Chewie got very serious. "You both ought to know by now how he feels about you. And that is something he will never say, to anyone, because it's something he feels."

Leia looked at Luke to make sure he understood and he nodded solemnly at her. "He wouldn't even ever say that. But it's interesting," Luke said to Leia, "you're Her Highness. No one really gossips with you, do they? Yet you've heard stories, too."

"Oh, they gossip," Leia said. "I've heard some. Maybe ones you haven't."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Leia shrugged uncomfortably. "You know. From the women here."

"There's women here?" Luke pretended to goggle, and Leia whacked his bicep gently, scowling shyly. "Seriously, what do they say?" he pressed.

She scrunched up her nose. "Just...you know. Women talk."

Her discomfort was charming. She seemed years younger. "I've heard some guys talk about him too. I've heard he's with anyone," Luke prattled on, "with you, me, even Chewie."

"Oh, he most certainly did not spread that," Chewie said with a chuckle. "He's a ladies' man."

Leia's eyes flicked. "That's exactly what they say. That he barely needs an invitation."

Luke looked at Chewie with a question in his eye. He could picture Han spreading this story. He could picture also how the story could be true, but not here. Not on Hoth.

"Then who is that snoring in the Captain's bunk every night?" Chewie asked.

"What's that? Oh, snoring?" Luke laughed. "And the lump under the blanket he's sleeping with is Lucky."

"What do you guys keep laughing about?" Hobbie shouted up to them.

"We're telling Wookiee jokes," Luke called back. "You wouldn't get it." He got up to turn the brewer on for more tea. "I've heard a couple about you, Chewie."

"Oh?" Chewie cocked his head to the side, looking amused.

"Yeah. Two sides of the coin. One, that Han owns you and you're his slave, or that you owe him a Life Debt."

"Where did you hear the last one from?"

Luke shrugged. "I don't know. From a few really. That's the thing with these, you can't really point to the source, can you?"

"Unless the source is Han," Leia said.

"Mm. What has he told you?" Chewie asked.

Luke and Leia exchanged glances. "You're his partner," Luke said. "I just assumed that's all there was to it. Why does it have to be about you being owned or beholden to him?"

"I know why," Leia said. "Because the Empire classified all Wookiees as slave animals."

Luke stared at Chewie a moment, as if his presence alone at the table could ease his confusion. He jutted his head forward a bit. "The Empire classified?"

Leia nodded. "At the end of the Clone Wars. The Empire sorted the planets it controlled into categories of development. Kashyyyk fell under Labor Source."

"They raided my home," Chewie explained slowly, using lots of hand gestures so Luke understood. "Stole us for bondage."

"But you're Han's partner," Luke repeated, scratching his neck. "Did he buy your freedom?"

"I wish it was that peaceful," Chewie said with a rueful smile. "A Wookiee's freedom cannot be bought."

"Don't worry, Chewie," Leia patted his furry arm. "When the Empire is destroyed you'll all be released from bondage."

"Skywalker," Hobbie hollered. "I'm announcing the beetle winner!"

"It's not me," Luke called back. "Wedge got four more than me this afternoon," he told Leia. "You're still a slave?" he asked Chewie.

"I am a Wookiee," Chewie said simply.

"So Han-?"

"Helped us escape. And returned us to Kashyyyk."

"Then why are you here?"

"I am a slave. I owe him. I was able to to go home, to my mate. We made a cub."

Luke smiled. "It's a Life Debt, then. So why partner?"

"Han is a human. He thinks naming me partner relieves him of the burden. He does not understand it."

"Chewie, I think he freed you so you could go back to the life you deserve. That's what he would want for you," Leia said. "He probably thinks he didn't improve your situation, if you're sworn to honor a smuggler."

"We all have things we dislike about ourselves," Chewie repeated. "But I like him."

Luke grinned. The three were silent in the lounge. Luke heard the brewer making a popping noise and the indistinct chatter of the Rogues and Han.

"Was he hurt?" Leia said quietly. "Helping you escape? Is that why? Because he almost gave-"

"- his life for ours," Chewie finished. "Yes." Leia nodded thoughtfully.

Luke got up and took in the scene from the top of the ramp to the patio. Zev and Janson sat back to back on a crate. Hobbie was standing, Wedge on a blanket on the ground putting the deck of cards away. Han lay on his back on the pallet, still in his coat and boots and gloves, his arm outstretched and Lucky's head using it as a pillow. Leia came to stand beside Luke.

Something alerted the patio members to their presence. Han craned his neck back. "Hey, kid," he called, "fetch me a sock for Janson. He won tonight."

Janson looked smug. "Thirteen today."

Luke's mouth opened in protest. "No way. You cheated. Did you go out twice?"

Leia patted Luke's back and started to slip past him. "I think I'll head to my quarters. Thanks for tonight, Chewie," she waved at the Wookiee.

"Hold up, I'll walk you back," Luke said. "Lemme grab a sock."

Leia shook her head patiently. "Socks," she said.

Luke returned with a gray one. "He's got quite a few socks back there," he told Chewie.

"He's been winning them," Chewie said.

"That reminds me of another story: he cheats at cards."

The other Rogues jerked their heads toward Luke and then they looked at Han, who was trying to appear modest. "I'm a good player," he said.

"He'll cheat," Chewie said with a laugh. "Not always, but he will."

"So does he?" Wedge asked.

Luke laughed. "Too bad you don't know Shyriiwook," he taunted. "You'll never hear it from me."

"Hey," Han said angrily, as the others jeered and Janson grabbed his sock. Lucky raised her head. "You're waking the baby."

"We're leaving," Luke told Han. "I'm walking Leia to her quarters."

Han gave a searching look between Luke and Leia, his gaze settling troubled on the Princess.

"Goodnight, Captain," Leia said.

Luke bent down to give Lucky a _Falcon_ -styled head ruffling. "Goodnight, Lucky. Beetle dreams." He stood back and caught Leia's face just before she let him begin to escort her, her expression changing from... the first word that came to Luke was crushed...from crushed to cool, composed marble.

The durocrete blocks weren't wide enough for them to walk side by side, so Luke trailed behind Leia.

"Leia? Can I ask you a question?"

She seemed to know that whenever he didn't blurt out something that was on his mind she had to prepare herself to answer. He saw her shoulders give a twitch and knew she was collecting her resolve. She stopped, and made a half turn. "What?"

"Why don't you like Lucky?"

He saw his question took her by surprise. "What - who says - I like Lucky," she said defensively.

"Did you ever have a pet when you were growing up?"

"No," she shook her head. "We were away too much. My mother didn't want any extra burdens for the staff to take care of."

"I didn't either. My aunt had a plant."

"That doesn't quite count as a pet," Leia said dryly.

"Why not?" Luke wanted to know. "My uncle got it for her. He went to some trade show and they had this equipment that produced so much water it could provide for a plant. He didn't get it. The condenser. It was too expensive. But he won a...cutting, I think they called it," he saw Leia smile and knew he was charming her with his ignorance again.

"We had plants, too," Leia shared. "But no one regarded them like you would a pet. They were beautiful maybe, but not members of the family."

"Don't tell that to my aunt," Luke said. "She fussed over that thing. Got the sprig to take root. By the time she - well, when I left, she had three pots of it."

"She had quite the green thumb," Leia commented.

"What's that?"

Leia smiled again. "Good at gardening. A way with plants. Anyway, if someone started that story, that I don't like Lucky, they should just come and ask me."

"That's what I'm doing."

Leia started walking again.

"It's not a story," Luke told her back. "It's what I noticed. I would never tell a story about you."

"All you've noticed is I don't go beetle boring."

"Or touch her. Or just take part in her raising, like all of us do here. Even General Rieekan. I saw him rub her snout with his cheek the other day."

Leia softened, turning her head so Luke could see her smile as they walked. "I saw that."

"She's a princess of tauntauns, that's for sure," Luke said without thinking, but it gave him a flash of understanding. He stopped and drew his brows together. "Are you jealous?"

Her neck held her head in Princess pose. "Of course not. Why would I be jealous of a tauntaun?"

"OK, not jealous," they resumed walking. "Sad. I saw you a moment ago, watching me and Han pet her. You looked sad."

"Her story is sad."

"But maybe a little jealous." Luke couldn't let the thought go. "Your story is sad, too." Two worlds, Luke thought. Death and Life. A Princess without her people. A human who thought she had no herd. Yes, her story was very sad. "Leia."

He pulled her toward him and hugged her, but she didn't return it, arms remaining at her side. Two people tried to pass them and had to split up, each moving along the passage icy walls, hanging on and looking at the pair resentfully.

"My story is Lucky's," she whispered before moving away from him.

"Come in here," Luke said. He opened a storage closet, and _damn_ if Darth Vader wasn't in here, looking too like he'd lost his family. Luke sheltered Leia with his arm. _Go_ , he directed Vader. _I didn't invite you. You don't belong._

Vader didn't vanish like he did in previous appearances. He turned dejectedly, and faded slowly.

They sat on a metal shelving unit, as cold as the snow, but at least not wet.

Leia was composed again. She would not talk about it anymore, so it was up to Luke. He took her gloved hand. "Your story is Lucky's," he repeated softly. Leia said nothing, staring sightlessly at a spot ahead of her boots.

Leia's mother had died, Luke recalled, when Leia was a child. But she had her father. So Lucky's mother was more like...Alderaan.

Leia had been imprisoned by the Empire because she stole the plans to the Death Star, and since the Empire was nearer Alderaan than the rebel base she had named, they killed it. Leia, daughter of Alderaan.

"You watched your planet die," Luke said. "Like Lucky watched her mother. Her whole world. Yours, too."

Leia only nodded, still looking at a spot on the snow.

"And Lucky got rescued, just like you did. By the same guys, too," Luke told her in quiet heartiness, and she smiled a little. "And now Lucky gets to stay with them, and she's tended to and cared for. And maybe loved," Luke considered. "She's so kriffing adorable."

Leia sighed.

"But you're beautiful. And you're not a child. Lucky is accepting. She's found a new home. You're on a military base. That's why," Luke answered his own question. It wasn't jealousy. It was pain. Leia couldn't accept, couldn't find a home, and she didn't let anyone tend to her or care for her. And she knew it, and she was past the point of being able to ask for it.

He sighed. Leia still said nothing. "She's accepting because, well, let's say tauntauns aren't that complicated," Luke said with a gentle smile. "She'll let a human raise her."

"She loves her human," Leia whispered unexpectedly.

"Do you think so?" Luke asked. "Or is it instinct? Imprinting. But humans _are_ complicated and what you needed got overlooked. Or replaced. Because you said you wanted to fight."

Leia nodded. "The tauntauns don't declare war on the snow creatures when one kills a member of the herd. Not like humans."

Luke nodded. Experimentally, he asked, "Since your story is Lucky's, would you? Hunt down all the snow creatures?"

"They're called wampas," Leia said.

"Oh. I hadn't heard that."

She nodded. "The scientists told us that."

"Would you?"

"No," she answered huskily. "Because if I got what Lucky got, I might feel somehow...," she searched for the word, "appeased. My mother - and I'm talking about my mother, Breha - she died. It was horrible but natural, and I've come to understand it. Accept it, I guess. It's still sad, always will be. Just like what happened to Lucky's mother. That was just -" she shook her head. "I can't imagine what it was like for Han."

"How can you relate more to his trauma but not your own?" Luke said in gentle frustration. "That's not the first time you've done that. You did that with me, too."

She ignored him. "But you're right. Humans are complicated, and what happened to Alderaan is not like a wampa hunting a tauntaun."

She was back in control and the moment was ended. Luke sighed heavily again. He didn't think he'd helped her at all.

"So I will fight for my home," she finished.

"All I want is for you to have a new one."

Leia stood. "Come on, let's go. Sitting here is freezing me to the core."

"I know," he said sadly, and they walked back to her quarters in silence.


	17. Cold Feet

The weather was a main topic of conversation, mentioned casually or with great determination. It impacted everything here on Hoth, to the point Luke felt Hoth was nothing without weather. Tatooine was a desert planet; two suns, no water, and lots of sand. The day dawned the same as all, in a cloudless sky. Hoth was weather. A place where snow fell, icy or soft, powdery and dry, heavy and wet. The wind blew, thunder mumbled or it crashed. He didn't dare mention it aloud, because the scientists would no doubt shoot him down, but he had a sneaking image the origins of this planet lay in the asteroid belt just past orbit. He felt Hoth was just one of the larger asteroids, sucked into a rickety orbit of the tiny star system, and weather started to happen to it, and it grew in size and color; a rock covered in petrified ice.

The weather was what he and Leia were talking about now, sitting in her quarters and sipping from warm mugs of tea.

Han was gone, off shopping he called it, and it put a temporary halt to the patio gathering. He hadn't meant for that; the crates were still out in open invitation, but they were stacked tidily, and no one took the initiative to spread them out.

Luke, in a poetic mood, thought of science and humanity, of stars and people. The _Falcon_ was a sun, and Luke and the Rogues were drawn to her like planets, benefiting from her warmth. Now there was a wide open space in the hangar, and it was vacant and cold. It couldn't be close at all to how Leia felt about the loss of Alderaan, but he had a glimmer of understanding. She must be like one of the asteroids, destined to circle forever, watching, restless, never landing unless she burned entry into an atmosphere.

Leia was a little thrown by Han' departure. She was the one who specifically came down to talk to Chewie, inside the _Falcon,_ while Luke, Han and the Rogues made do on the hangar's snow, sitting on crates or mats and playing. She had to go elsewhere while Chewie was gone, and Luke noticed how she really didn't have anywhere else to go unless she never stopped working, or she was alone, and he thought neither was desirable for her.

On Bug Base she and Luke had what they coined the Quarter's Talk, and spent time together in her quarters, and Luke took up the tradition again easily. It was easy that Han wasn't here causing an alternative.

He took a sip of his drink. Or that Han wasn't causing a distraction. He frowned at her with one brow. Who had given up the Quarter's Talk first, him or Leia? Their first day on Hoth both had gravitated toward the _Falcon_ , even before the night cycle.

"What?" she said, noting his expression and looking amused.

"Nothing," he shook his head quickly. "I was just wondering where the Rogues will have their sock tournament tonight."

"Oh, you mean a Sabacc match." She sounded a little sarcastic, as if the emphasis on keeping their feet warm by playing games was disappointing and amusing at the same time. "You all need to take the cold more seriously."

"We do. That's why we play for socks."

"Yes, well. Do you realize there have been six incidents of serious frostbite this week?"

"I hadn't realized it was that many. I heard about Natasz," Luke said, referring to a nasty incident where a member of the engineering team was still in a bacta tank, in danger of losing a foot.

"And now I want to know if it's because they were missing socks. I don't know what it is about Spring Wet," Leia said, "why anyone would think it's warmer. The temperature is displayed in every room and passage entrance; we were all told in training it never rises above freezing."

Luke nodded. He didn't try to defend Natasz; it _was_ warmer, if just a few degrees. "It's the snowfall. It's heavier. Wedge describes the sky as a blanket."

She squinted an eye at him, trying to ascertain if this was a good description. "It's snow, Luke. Snow. Falling half a meter an hour. How can anyone think that's not dangerous?"

He raised his brows and bobbed his head, letting her know he saw the two viewpoints clearly. He, too, had been stupid enough to sit down on the ground and let the snow bury him from above. For some reason, this seasonal snow was strangely inviting, fascinatingly tactile. Wedge was right, at least in the way it blanketed everything; not only how it covered the ground but how it seemed to deck the air, so many flakes they looked as if they hovered in suspension. "The air feels insulated," he explained.

She shook her head, unable to comprehend how the danger got minimized. But she hadn't been outside, Luke thought; she didn't live with the temperatures being shouted at you so often it started to lose meaning.

A knock sounded softly at the door. "Your Highness, may I speak with you a moment?" Luke recognized General Rieekan's voice. He made to get up, sitting forward to place his mug on the table.

"Don't," Leia said. "Stay. It's after hours." She rose, placing her own mug next to Luke's, and palmed open the door release. "Hello, General. Come in." She moved aside so Rieekan could slip past her. He didn't waste any time looking around her quarters. Probably, Luke thought, because they looked the same. Two Alderaani refugees without an artifact from home to make it look like a place they belonged.

Rieekan spied Luke immediately. "I didn't realize someone was here," he spoke apologetically. "I'll just-"

"Don't be silly," Leia said graciously. "I wouldn't have let you in. Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you. Commander Skywalker," he greeted Luke with a nod. "What are you up to this evening?"

There were no rumors in his voice, no assumptions, and Luke appreciated it. He grinned politely. "I'm a poor card player, sir," he said. "Just trying to hold on to the two pair of socks I have left."

"Two?" Leia turned from the beverage dispenser in alarm. "We were issued four. And that doesn't count what might have been brought with personal belongings."

"I told you, I'm terrible at Sabacc," Luke said.

Rieekan grinned. "Ah. I've heard of these games. Never been issued an invitation myself." He took a seat next to Luke on the settee.

"Oh," Luke shifted in his seat a bit. No one from Command had been invited, he was pretty sure. This was off duty stuff; the tournament tables had grown to a round robin of techs, builders, and scientists. Luke was more than certain the Rogues didn't want to be on their best behavior a whole day. "You're welcome to join us, sir."

Rieekan was still grinning. "No," he said knowingly. "I wouldn't do that to you boys." He took his mug of tea gratefully from Leia, giving her a nod and eyeing her thoughtfully. "I just got off shift in the command center and saw by the board you hadn't set your room for the night cycle yet. Thought I would come and join you."

Luke adjusted a blanket Leia had thrown over the settee indicating Rieekan could cover his legs with it if he wished. Night cycle meant bed warmers could be activated. Command had warned the settings would be monitored, and Wedge had tested that one night when he selfishly set his for warmer than proscribed, and woke to don extra clothing, even his flight suit, after command center turned his off in retaliation for breaking the rules.

"You're always welcome, Carlist," Leia said. She drifted away, her voice coming soft from behind a wall. "I generally don't turn in until late." She reappeared, holding a soft black ball in her hands. "Catch, Luke," she gave it a gentle toss and it landed in Luke's lap.

Luke picked it up. It was a rolled and folded fabric, tucked in at the edge. He unfurled it, and held it up for all to see. "Socks," he said.

"Consider it a birthday present," Leia said smartly.

"Early," Luke said. "And used." They were clearly men's socks. "Whose-"

"Chewie gave them to me," Leia said, smiling. "I was complaining about how cold the 'fresher was- that there's nothing nice to stand on when I'm getting dressed- and he said to use them as walking carpets."

Luke laughed loudly. "What a sense of humor!"

"I know. But I haven't used them. The heel comes up to here," she placed a finger on the lower shin of one leg. "So you take them." She turned to Rieekan, who was looking appropriately confused. "I called Chewbacca, in a moment of great irritation, a walking carpet when we were trying to escape the Death Star," she explained.

Rieekan showed polite amusement. "I can't imagine you had time for conversation, let alone insults," he said.

Luke's grin was private. "There were some arguments too, as I recall." He looked at Leia, sharing his grin with her. "Too many thought they were in charge."

"Solo," Rieekan guessed. "And you, Your Highness."

"Good guess," Luke said cheerfully.

"Not a guess," Rieekan said with a smile. "I've got a good idea of each of your temperaments. Three natural-born leaders working together."

"Clashing; not working," Luke said. He glanced at Leia, who seemed as lost in memory as he was. "I tried to plan. Leia," he tempered it with a good-natured smile, "tried to rule, and Han-"

"- shot at everything," Leia remembered fondly.

"And yet you got the job done." Rieekan rubbed his thumb along the rim of his mug absently, and Luke thought he looked like a man with a lot on his mind. "Has Solo been offered a commission?" Rieekan wondered unexpectedly.

Leia looked at Luke. "I don't believe so."

"I doubt it," Luke provided. "He brought us to Yavin, asked for a reward, then left. He came back, and got the Medal of Bravery with me, left again, and then when he came back...what, Leia? months later, right?"

She nodded. "And I worked up a contract for him as independent shipper."

"And that's what he's off doing now," Rieekan summarized.

"There's nothing right now. He left to get supplies. For himself," she added.

"He's been gone a while," Luke said. "That's the problem with being here. It takes so long to get anywhere and back."

"Did he take the baby tauntaun with him?"

"Oh, for star's sake, no," Leia laughed. "Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do, Carlist."

"Lucky stays with the herd now," Luke said. He pouted. "She's gotten so big."

"How long has he been shipping for us?" Rieekan asked.

Leia shrugged. "A few months longer than you've been here. I can look it up for you if you need to know. Why?"

Rieekan shrugged in return. "I'd like to see him on our side. No one's offered to make it official?"

"He is on our side," Luke said.

"I say something all the time," Leia said defensively. "Don't I, Luke?"

He nodded, looking at her smart brown eyes and trying to summon all the tact he had. "But you haven't made an offer, really," he said. "It's more of a...a goad."

Her mouth dropped open. "Goad?" she repeated incredulously.

"Yeah." He knew not to tell her Han thought of it as nagging. "You keep talking about committing, not taking a position."

"It's the same thing!" Leia protested.

"Not to Han," Luke stated.

"Well," Rieekan said crisply, placing his mug on his thigh. "Perhaps it's time to lay the socks on the table, as it were."

Luke felt a swelling inside him, an excitement. He kept his eyes on Rieekan while his mind went into overdrive. Han, at a swearing-in, Dodonna pinning bars on his chest. At meetings together, planning strikes, Command staff. Both in khaki, eating in the mess...Luke stared at the quilted padded khaki coat of a general, the insignia over the right chest. It was hard to picture Han in anything other than the Bloodstripe pants, the white shirt. He blinked. "What would you offer him?"

"I see him in Sector Forces, maybe SpecOps. Of course, right now he's his own Supply Department, isn't he?"

"He's managed to procure us quite a bit," Leia allowed. "As much as I agree with you, I don't know he would go for it. Or be as good as you think."

"Why not, Princess?"

"He's an independent shipper with stress on independent. He likes to do things his way."

Rieekan shrugged as if this was a matter of little consequence. "Make him a general then. If he has a problem with authority, he'll have to talk to himself." Luke chuckled appreciatively. "And he can be the one to say how something will happen," Rieekan added. "No Princesses to contradict him." He grinned as Leia's neck turned red, spreading to her jaws and cheeks.

"There will be some that object to it," Leia said. "They'll feel he doesn't have the training or proper background."

"So he didn't go to officer school," Rieekan dismissed her concerns.

"I didn't," Luke said, and Rieekan nodded at him, grateful for the support. "And you're a fine Commander, Skywalker.

"Thank you, sir," Luke said.

"Neither did I, for that matter. My career has always been the public sector. Yours too, Your Highness. Sometimes that makes the best officer." He set his mug on the table. "Just look at the Empire. It's grown stagnant with fat, self-serving, corrupt officers."

Leia's eyes were alert and thoughtful. "Are you aware that he owes a Hutt a significant amount of money? That there's a bounty put out on him?"

Again, Rieekan dismissed any drawbacks. "We all have bounties if you think of it."

"Han seems to think a Hutt is more aggressive than the Empire is about using the bounty system," Luke said.

"That may be," Rieekan admitted.

Leia held her mug poised at her lips. "Will you talk to Captain Solo, then?"

Rieekan considered it. "I'll mention it to Dodonna first. Not that I'll let him change my mind. Solo should appreciate my position, right?" he grinned at Luke and Leia. "He's a gambler, I hear, and what have I got to lose?"

"Nothing," Leia agreed.

"Think if he says yes," Luke imagined. "And you do make him a general. He'd outrank me." Leia laughed at the expression on Luke's face. "I'm not sure how I feel about that," he said dubiously, and she laughed some more.

"The reason I brought it up, Skywalker, is we'll need to up some officers when we all merge to Home Base in the distant near future. Your name is on the list for promotions. Easily to Captain."

"There you go, Luke," Leia toasted him with her mug.

"Not for a time yet, and don't mention it to anyone. I probably shouldn't have said anything." Rieekan stood. "Well, I must say, I feel better," he said. "I'll leave you two to your chat. Thank you, Princess."

"For what? Is something wrong, Carlist?"

Rieekan's hand was on the wall, ready to palm open the door. "No. Actually, you've helped me, in a way. Just being with you both, seeing your...youth. What wonderful people you are. My son," he said heavily, "would have a birthday today."

"Oh, sir," Luke said, recognizing the deep sorrow innately.

"Carlist," Leia said, rising. "He still has a birthday. Please don't go."

"No, no, I'm fine, Princess. I'll be fine. I just needed to...but now," he brightened a bit, "I have a project."

"Sit down. Please. I want you stay," Leia implored him.

"How old would your son be, sir?" Luke asked. He didn't think the question would destroy this grieving man. Alderaan would be gone two years its next anniversary, and from Luke's experience with his own grief, he welcomed any opportunity to remember those he lost.

"Twenty-five, Skywalker," he inclined his head in a bow.

"I mentioned him, remember Luke? On the way to Yavin. We saw you," Leia informed Rieekan, "in Captain Solo's visitor log from when he visited Alderaan. I...for some reason..." her voice trailed off, and she looked at Luke, puzzled.

"I remember," Luke said, recognizing Leia was revisiting her state of shock, and seeing how deep she'd gone. "You said he didn't talk to you even though he was older because you thought he was afraid of your title."

Rieekan laughed gently. "Yes. That was him. Exactly. Not your title, Leia. You." He said it again. "You. He was terrified of you."

Luke was nodding along unconsciously. "Many are."

"Luke!" Leia exclaimed.

He smiled at her. "I went in to _rescue_ you," he reminded her, "and you called me short!"

Rieekan burst out in a raspy laugh. "Oh, Princess," he said with affection.

"The uniform didn't fit you," Leia said. "I knew right away something was up. And I would not call me terrifying."

"Intimidating, then?" Luke suggested.

"Neither," Leia frowned. "It's not me that's the problem. It's the rest of you."

"You were in his class, do you remember?"

Leia nodded. "Math."

"He used to say it was unfair. How you were younger, and smarter."

Leia, eyes doleful, said, "I'm so sorry, Carlist. It's still unfair."

Rieekan nodded. "There are a billion stories like him. I don't care if a person was a hundred years old and lying on their death bed when it happened. It was still too soon."

"A billion stories doesn't take away from yours, though," Luke said.

"You're right, of course, Skywalker. Easy to forget, though. I think what's more unfair is we are the ones who lived."

Leia's eyes searched Rieekan's intently, looking for blame, seeking absolution. "Sometimes," she confessed softly, "if something is funny and I laugh, then I feel so guilty that I laughed, because one billion people died, and I didn't."

"You should be allowed to laugh," Luke said into the silence. His voice was tender. "And you should be sad. But you should never be guilty." He looked at Rieekan, still standing at the door. "That may be the only thing I'll ever learn from Be...from General Kenobi, what the Force is. There is such a thing as death, but there's also the memory of life. It's a subtle distinction."

"I think that's why I enjoy listening to the two of you," Rieekan told him. "So young, with strong memories. And humor, and love. That's what I want. That's what I want to see." He looked directly at Leia. "I want to see the promise of your futures."

"Was your son going to be a diplomat as well, sir?" Luke asked.

"An architect, actually," Rieekan grinned wistfully. "That's why he didn't like Leia in his math class."

Leia smiled softly. "I remember his drawings. We had to do a project once, graphing equations, and we were supposed to make a picture." Her eyes, sentimental, rose to Rieekan's, and he returned to the settee to hear the story. "I did a flower with four petals. Not very difficult. That's what a few of us did. It took the least effort. He did," and she paused, the memory fresh again,"the palace at Aldera. Remember all those roof lines, Carlist?"

"Yes," Rieekan laughed. How many were there? Twenty gables?"

"And he had the turret, and balustrade. It was incredible. Huge. His graph was four times the size of what the teacher required."

Rieekan and Leia continued their story, describing to Luke the building and the son, the architecture and the culture, now all gone.

It seemed to do them well. Luke got up to use the 'fresher and then made more tea, and as he stood at the brewer, he sensed the grief, like a fine mist in the room. It wasn't painful, but achingly beautiful, and he was so aware of how much grief there was in the galaxy, moment after moment, everywhere; someone loving and losing. It was a bit like the weather, how it could wail in despair, lash out in anguish, or gently caress like a warm breeze.

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Luke was on his back, under the chassis of the snow speeder, following the path of the computer relays with a light. He, Dak, Hobbie and Wedge were working with a few of the techs on the speeder problem. The scientists had still not come up with a suitable solution, causing a trickle down effect of frustration that started with General Dodonna, blowing air out of his nostrils and bellowing, down to the Rogues, who were tiring of venturing out on the backs of smelly tauntauns when they should be flying along the contours of the mountains and drifts.

"It's 'cause their heads are in the science," Wedge complained, and Luke agreed with him, hearing his uncle _get your head out of the clouds_ and realizing how much time he wasted just thinking. "They need to get hands-on; that's where you find your anwers."

Hobbie clapped Wedge on the shoulder. "Spoken like a true Corellian. Fine, then. Let's take one apart."

General Dodonna wouldn't grant permission to dismantle one right away. Luke brought it to Leia, sitting in her office with Dak and Hobbie, asking her to appeal on their behalf. She finally won her argument, convincing Dodonna that the speeders were useless now as it was, and dismantling one wasn't going to change that status and may eventually lead to a solution.

The wires for the computer relays branched off in various directions, separating for a specific function. "I don't know," Luke murmured. "If we," and then something dropped on his face. Reflexively, he jerked his head to the side. The object was light enough to not bruise, but heavy enough to fall with a light slap, stinging the corner of his eye where it hit. It slid off his cheek to the ground, and Luke twisted his neck to see first who had dropped it.

Black boots, red bloodstripe piping, blaster resting in a holster strapped over the thigh, unbuttoned coat flashing a long torso, and the clean shaven face of Han Solo. "For you," Han said.

Luke sat up, switching off the light with a gloved thumb and picked up the object Han had dropped on his face.

"Long time no see, Solo," Hobbie said.

Wedge, shorter than Han, grabbed him by the biceps and made a show of peering into his face. "I like your cheeks," he told Han.

"You like my cheeks, huh?" Han said, turning around and making like he would drop his pants. "I got two others I can show you."

"You shave them too, Solo?" Hobbie asked.

Han laughed, dropping his hands from the belt buckle. "Too cold to continue this joke."

"You got me socks?" Luke said.

That's what Han had dropped on his face. They were long, and should fit to the knee; a royal blue, like the Calvuncan sky, with a green patterning resembling trees.

"Chewie picked them out for you," Han told him. "I'm payin' up."

"Paying up?" Luke echoed dumbly. "Oh, Lucky!" he realized. "Yeah, her ring turned purple about a week ago."

"And she's got a smell now," Han said sadly.

"Your girl's all grown up," Wedge said to Dak and Hobbie's accompanying laughter.

"Something wrong with that?" Han fairly menaced, and Wedge looked at Luke with widened eyes, asking the silent question what part of the question was wrong: your, girl, or grown up. Luke mimed a shrug back.

But Han had already moved on, circling the pieces of the speeder with interest. "Somebody give a wampa a spanner?" he asked wryly.

Luke saw their work station with fresh eyes. It did look a haphazard mess. "We're trying to see what parts are exposed to the cold."

"I thought the insulation didn't work," Han said.

"It shredded," Dak informed him. "Got caught up in the fan. So we're thinking if we can move things around, maybe even remove the fan..."

"A whole rework, huh?" Han's eyes gleamed with interest. "That's going to take some time."

A tech nodded. "I think Dodonna should just trade these in for something that's complete and that'll work."

"But there's no guarantee anything'll work," Hobbie remarked. "Even the droids power down. The scientists think it's atmospheric. So a rework probably won't do much."

"Still," Han squatted down by Luke and practically leered up into the stripped engine mount. "Be fun, won't it?"

"And they stopped our patrols 'cause of the snowfalls. So we got time. Can't even get a sensor signal while we're outside! Snow's too thick."

"It's an interesting planet," Han, perpetual spacer, said.

"Interesting to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here," Wedge said, and they all snorted.

Luke waved to the others as he followed Han back to the _Falcon._ "How was the trip? Any bounty hunters?"

"Um, well..."

"Seriously, Han? What-"

"The trouble with humans," Han broke in, "is they stick to what they know."

Luke took a moment to digest the meaning. "You went shopping somewhere you've been before. Don't tell me. Scenic, warm. With lots of cantinas and a criminal element?"

"Wait'll you see my stores, though. I need to get the Royal down here."

"At least you got away. No damage? To you," Luke could see Han was fine, had been fine; but he worried about everything else, "Chewie, or the _Falcon_?"

"I shaved, didn't I?"

Han had the terrible habit of not really answering a question. "Basic isn't your first language, is it?" Luke sighed.

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In one bay there was bacta, in gel bandages and solution, pain suppressants, steroid injectables, and antibiotics. But Luke was going through the cooler, Chewie standing behind him and talking about what Luke thought was the word 'harvest' but must have meant purchases.

"Oh, look at this one," Luke gushed enthusiastically. It was a vegetable, a dark green, beautiful color, with tiny, thick curly leaves. "Never thought I'd see the day I can't wait to eat my vegetables. My aunt would be proud."

"We got it cheap," Chewie told him. "Infested with bugs."

Luke snatched his hand away and peered closely at the leaves, watching for movement.

"It's fine," Chewie woofed in laughter. "Han flash froze it."

"Won't the bugs thaw?" Luke asked. Hoth had given him the Shyriiwook vocabulary for the many terms of 'cold'.

"You're here too long," Chewie said humorously. "They don't come back to life when they've been frozen. They die."

"Oh," Luke said in relief. "What are you cooking tonight?"

"I'll post the menu later," Han said sarcastically, coming up behind Luke. "Right now you've got a meeting with the Princess."

"I do?" Luke frowned, wondering if he'd forgotten something on his schedule.

"Me, too. We're summoned. Chewie, get a crew and get that stuff unloaded. Wait a sec, kid, I got to get something."

They headed toward the passage, Han holding a crumpled bag in his hand.

"Did you get Leia socks, too?" Luke asked.

Han grinned. "I did." He handed the bag to Luke, who pulled the pair out. "Think she'll like 'em?"

Luke laughed. They were very short, probably not too small but almost. "Did you shop in the kids department?"

"As a matter of fact."

Luke laughed again. "They're her. Totally." The girl-sized socks were white, with a design of gold tiaras worked symmetrically into the tiny knitted fabric, making them double thick. The packaging read Princess Socks. "She'll hate them."

"But she'll wear them," Han said.

"You're the only one who could get away with something like this," Luke said.

Han nodded. "It's my privilege."

"I can't believe they actually make something called Princess Socks."

"It's a whole line," Han explained, sharing in Luke's retail horror. "They had shirts, and necklaces. I almost got her the hat."

"It was a crown?" Luke guessed.

Han nodded. "Gold, nine points. It wasn't closed though. Wouldn't be warm enough."

"That was your consideration, huh. The weather here." Of course it was, Luke thought.

The door to Leia's office stood open. Han and Luke strode in without knocking. General Rieekan was the only one who stood; Leia and General Dodonna remained seated.

Rieekan offered his hand. "Good to see you, Solo. Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir," Han said. He tossed the bag on Leia's desk. "Your Whiteness." There were two chairs waiting for him and Luke, and Han took the one on the outside. He made no greeting to General Dodonna.

Leia crawled her two fingers stealthily up the desk and pulled the bag towards her, her eyes never leaving the men.

"Ship traffic has been halted," General Dodonna reminded Han tersely. "Until the Dry Season."

" _Alliance_ ship traffic," Han said, with an emphasis on Alliance. "And you're all gonna starve if you wait that long." He shrugged modestly. "I got out okay."

"The med supplies are a welcome delivery, however," Leia said in her Princess voice. Her fingers were quietly dragging the bag closer.

"They are," Rieekan said conclusively. "Lieutenant Nastasz needed the fresh bacta solution."

"He needed to stay out of the snow," Dodonna fairly growled. He reined himself in, squaring his elbows on the arm rests. "There's a reason for policy. We shouldn't have to stipulate what to wear in the snow, why ships don't leave when a weather system will send a ship crashing to the surface before it's even left. We set up policies to maintain safety, a system of procedures-"

"Next time I'm a patient I want them to have the treatment in stock," Han said loudly to Rieekan.

"We've scheduled another training session for weather dangers," Leia mentioned to Dodonna. Her voice, thought Luke, did so much to mollify. She was professional, she granted him his worries, she apologized for Han; all with one sentence. "But since Captain Solo got in and back without incident, I'd like to revisit halting all traffic."

"And I object to the method of procurement," Dodonna went on irratibly. "Stealing a ship's cargo in port and leaving cases of murkel berries in its place-"

Han shrugged. "At least I offered some compensation."

Luke wondered silently if the berries were covered in bugs.

"-headed to a hospital-"

"-hospitals are Imperial institutions," Han argued. "Technically I am impeding the operation of the Empire. That's your mission, too, ain't it? Until you get 'em weak enough you can go in for the kill."

"What I'm interested in," Rieekan spoke up, and placing a calming palm on Dodonna's armrest, "is not the why of your leaving but the how. Our equipment leaves us blind. No clearance at all. And the asteroid field-"

"It's not like there was any other air traffic to need clearance around," Han said. "But you've got to use the nav'scope to get to the ellipse's weakest point, and time it when to hit the coords, and you avoid the asteroid field."

"Are our ships equipped with nav'scopes?" Dodonna asked.

Luke joined the discussion. "Not the fighters. We're sent coords. Transports should have them, right?" He looked to Han, who nodded. Leia, he noticed, was exploring the bag's contents with her hand, her lips parted in concentration.

"I move we get the scopes," Rieekan looked at Dodonna. "We're a burden on the rest of the Alliance here; barely able to support ourselves, not able to aid in strikes or assist cells."

Leia waited until the two generals fell into private discussion before lowering her eyes to see in the bag. She was very surreptitious, Luke thought, and it was funny, a Princess in a military meeting, sneaking a look into a bag like a naughty child. Her head never changed angle. Han was watching her too, one corner of his mouth turned up.

When she saw what her gift was and what it looked like she flushed and Luke brought his eyes down to his lap, swallowing a smile.

"-and Skywalker, you'll accompany him," Dodonna finished speaking.

"Sir?" Luke blinked, having missed most of the conversation. Leia looked like she wanted to yell and laugh at the same time.

"We'll send Solo for pick up. When he leaves, you'll be on board to receive training in how to use a scope. Then you'll train your squadron."

"Yes, sir," Luke said automatically, but he turned his head to Han.

Leia was looking at Rieekan. "Why don't we have Captain Solo conduct the training?" she suggested. "It's likely there are a number of scenarios a pilot can encounter that one training session won't cover them all."

"Excellent idea," Rieekan approved.

"It's not-" Han started to say but Rieekan cut him off.

"I'm asking, Solo, for you to take on the role as training consultant for as long as we need you. What do you say?"

"Uh." Han swiveled his head, noting Luke's grin, Leia's arched brow and Dodonna's scowl. "Why do I feel like I've been set up?"

Luke put a hand on Han's shoulder. "You got socks, Han?"

"Why would I need socks?"

"So you don't get cold feet."

Leia looked like she was bursting to ask Han to commit, but Rieekan silenced her with a glance. "Stick around for a bit," he suggested lightly. "We're not asking much." He _did_ know their temperaments.

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Han was back, and things resumed as they were before he left. The patio was set up again, and the _Falcon's_ ramp was down. The evening's entertainment changed its name from Sabacc match to Sock Match. Echo Seven joined Echo Three on patrols, and Lucky was Han's mount. She let others ride her, but the trainers knew to reserve her for Luke or Han. She was no longer dependent on him, but she knew him. It was heartening to see the way she stamped her back legs when he entered the stable, the way she wriggled her head and made conversational, back-of-throat noises at him while he told her to stop being smelly.

If Luke found belonging at Hoth from his friends, Han got it from a tauntaun, who couldn't hold her excitement back when she saw him. He got it from a general, who asked him to teach a class, and from his students, who dragged him to sims and asked to see how to wriggle out of maws and fight ion storms and do microjumps in the Kessel Run.

And he got it from Leia. She sneaked to the ship early one day, and with Chewie's help she found a dowel and some wire, and when Han and Luke got back from patrol, they were met with the sight of a small white and gold Princess Sock hanging from a dowel wedged into a space of the landing thruster, dangling like a welcome mat.


	18. Gifts

_AN: There was a Story Alert glitch on the day I posted Chapter 17 (Cold Feet). If you didn't stumble upon it on your own last week, then hit the Previous button and you get two chapters to read!_

 _Also, now that I am remembering to leave a note, a huge thank you to all who leave feedback. It's a wonderful thing to have your support._

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The tauntaun snorted, raising a cloud of steam around its head. Luke sighed, and added his own wisp of warm breath to the air. The tauntauns breathed much heavier than the humans. It was no wonder they couldn't survive the night temperatures. Not that Luke wanted to test it on a human. It wouldn't be the lungs that killed the human; just the damn cold.

It wasn't snowing right now, a marked change over the past months. Luke kept looking around, the now-visible horizon with its new layers of snowbanks and drifts a beacon of time.

Two years now, he thought, looking at the sameness of white. Two years ago he accidentally activated a holomessage. In rapid succession he'd gained two droids, lost his aunt and uncle, found a mentor he didn't know he'd been seeking, met a smuggler and a Princess and become a hero. And then what? Accomplishments had slowed, ground almost to a halt. His life was on hold. _I've been put on ice._ The thought made him laugh grimly at his own dark humor.

He still felt that itch, that need to do something, go somewhere. He'd had it all his life. He blamed it on the suns.

Aunt Beru's favorite time of day was suns set. Ever since he was very little she would take him outside with her. Sometimes he sat on her lap; other times she let him crawl around on the sand as it cooled. They would face the direction of the suns and watch as they lowered themselves through the sky, changing the heat, changing the color of the air, until they both disappeared and it would be suddenly cold and suddenly dark. When he was very young he and Beru would clap at this moment. He continued to follow her outside at the end of the day as he got older, and sometimes Uncle Owen joined them. It got him away from the evening chores, if just for a moment. Beru had thought the sight was lovely, poetic. She loved knowing she was one grain of sand in a desert. But it sparked a curiosity in Luke he never lost. Two suns! What else was out there?

This itch was a little different. He now had an inkling what else was out there. He'd seen a lot, and he knew he'd never see it all. This itch was like turning his back to the suns, and looking behind him for the first time in his life. Owen and Beru were there and for two years now they weren't. He wouldn't be able to change anything. Life went on, just like the suns rose and set every day. But you had to feel good about the life you were living.

He'd been good; been patient. Kept his head out of the clouds for the most part. Only when Luke was on his bunk, when the day was done, did he let his mind wander. It didn't wander in the ways it used to.

He used to dream of being the hero. Killing the Hutt and freeing Tatooine of his fermenting hold, everyone cheering him as he walked by. He pictured himself winning the purse in the Canyon Course Rally, holding the trophy, the other pilots congratulating him sincerely. He imagined finding a lost, underground river, of bringing water to the desert planet. Of having admirers. Fame and fortune.

He had that now. Everyone knew he was Red Five of Yavin. And it was fine. But he didn't get out of it what his imagination thought he would. The fame made him squirm, showed his modesty. There wasn't any fortune. And the admirers were wrong.

He had it now, whatever his mind had sought when he was a boy, but it wasn't finished. It wasn't satisfied. Now, at night, his head on his thin pillow, the bed warmer loosening his fantasies, he imagined saving his friends. Fending off bounty hunters, or even taking the mission money, set aside for scopes, or information, or food, and bringing it to Tatooine, paying off Jabba the Hutt. In his mind's eye he saw it, how the Hutt wouldn't let them go, and a battle would ensue, of blasters and lightsabers, with a Princess and a Smuggler, and the fabled Rebels would be victorious, of course; the great Hutt sprawled dead in his palace, and they would plunder the wealth there, and High Council would never know the original money had been replaced.

Or he dreamed for Leia. Scouring the galaxy in his travels, finding art, furniture, clothing; anything that was from Alderaan. He would build her a home from all the pieces and it wouldn't be like a museum, all the pieces rare and extinct relics, where no one could touch them or use them. She would go in this home he built for her and live with the things she knew when she was a girl.

Sometimes he lay in his bunk and wondered what his life would be like if there was peace. Where would he go to live? What would he do for a living? Where would everyone else be?

It was hard to imagine life without the war. Hard to look past the daily routine he was so used to. He liked living on the base; he liked having Leia near and was assured of Han's safety, of the camaraderie of the Rogues.

Would he meet someone, have a family? He wanted that. But he couldn't picture it. His future wife didn't have Talna's face. The children – he had to force his mind to accept that idea – were vague, indistinct shapes.

What was the future for if you didn't have anyone to share it with? That's what this war had taught him. It taught him the importance of family. He had to lose it to understand it, and now he feared his new family was sprung from war, that they really weren't a family; that this was just part of war, and would not stay intact once the war was over.

He had to remind himself to be patient. The Force was preparing him, somehow. It was beyond his mere mortal comprehension. But it came to him in the guise of Beru usually, and once Han, and sometimes Darth Vader, sad and lonely. He knew the Force felt it was important that he stay with Leia and the Rebellion. Why, he had no idea. Maybe the Force took sides, and wanted to see the end of the Empire as much as Leia. But then that was dangerous, too, Luke thought. Taking sides was only smart if one knew both sides of the story. It was too easy to be misled, influenced, steered in the wrong direction, and Luke worried the Force was doing that to him.

He didn't quite trust it. Whenever the Force decided he was ready, he had some questions for it. He would rehearse them, recite them out loud in the snow on a tauntaun's back while it muttered and complained. For instance, why the secrecy, why hadn't Beru and Owen told him about Ben bringing him to them? Did Ben tell them Luke was Force sensitive? Why did Ben stay on Tatooine? Why did Ben allow his aunt and uncle to lie about his father? His father seemed to have a prominent role in all this. Ben loved him, Owen lied about him. Luke had inherited his Force abilities through him. Did that warrant glossing over the life of his mother? Unnamed, her story untold. Almost like Lucky's mother.

It bothered him. Ever since the day of Lucky's birth and her mother's death, Luke found himself thinking of his own mother. He liked to imagine that she was happy to be expecting a child, of building a life with his father and their baby. And then she was dead. And no one told her story.

She was his mother, apparently not a Jedi and not Force sensitive, because otherwise Ben would have said something. How dare the Force think his father was the more important part of the story. One sided.

He felt so sad, looking at pictures of Leia's parents in the holoarchives. Sad for her, but even more for himself, because Leia's sadness was different. Hers was of love and loss, and he'd never gotten to experience that with his parents. His sadness was born out of envy of another's sadness. It made his conscience pulse guiltily.

She was lucky to have memories, and things like holopics that prompted and preserved these memories. Luke wondered where his blue eyes came from, his sandy hair. He didn't even have holopics of Beru or Owen, having fled his home and the building burned.

"Han," Luke asked one day when the snow wasn't that heavy and he could hear his voice ask the questions on his list and he came back inside, cold and lonely and empty, "when the Darklighters took you out to the farm, how bad was it?"

Luke had no idea what Han thought about when he was out alone with Lucky on patrol, or if he ever was introspective like Luke and Leia were. He didn't find Han at all shallow, and yet there was no evidence to the contrary that indicated he thought of anything other than what he could put his hands on and fix.

It took Han a minute to register what Luke was asking about. "What farm?"

"My farm. My uncle's. How bad was it?" Luke put a face cloth up to his nose to catch the discharge. Of all the inconveniences of living in extreme cold, the running noses were the worst.

"What do you mean, how bad was it?" Han seemed to be evading the question.

"I didn't see how much damage the fire did to the house," Luke said bravely. It was still difficult to relive the moment he had pulled up in his land speeder, having watched the black plume of smoke as he hurried helplessly across the desert, developing worst fears and seeing them become a reality.

"What are you thinking about?" Han asked him, eyes narrowed. Around his neck he had tied thin strips of fabric, one blue, one tan. They looked like he had torn the hems off a shirt or some piece of his personal wardrobe. He raised the blue one over his upper lip, and the fabric mustache spotlighted the fact Han hadn't shaved again.

Luke shrugged, looking past Han at people walking by. "I don't know, really. Possessions. Memories. I don't have any holos of my aunt or uncle."

Han didn't answer but started walking at a marching pace toward the command center.

"Do you?" Luke asked.

"Do I what?"

"Have anything from when you were a kid? A holo, or something."

"No."

"Oh." Luke fell silent, and they walked. Han could be lying, Luke thought. He would lie if he had something, because he was protective and defensive. But Luke felt Han was telling the truth this time. "Is it livable?" he asked.

Han spun around. "The farm?"

"Yeah."

Han pulled his face cloth off and hooked the damp material around a clasp off his belt. Luke had been issued fifteen, but of course Han had to make up his own system for combating a constant runny nose. "It's…" he started to say, and stopped.

"Go ahead, I can take it. I've already seen the worst, right? I mean, I may want something from it, but in the end it's just a thing."

Han nodded. "The living quarters were hit the hardest," he said, making Luke swallow. "And the machinery, the vaporators and door palms, stuff like that, that was all stripped."

Luke nodded.

"There was a shed."

"The garage," Luke said. He brightened a bit. That had not been burning when he returned.

"Right. It was open. It looked like first it was searched – things were thrown around. And then picked over later."

The stormtroopers, Luke thought. Looking for the droids. "I'm surprised the Jawas didn't take everything," Luke remarked. "Those scavengers. We bought R2 and 3PO from them."

"I don't think there's much to collect, or find," Han said carefully. "But I think it could be livable again. With a bit of work."

"My uncle's father built it. I'm the third generation."

"Mm," was all Han said, disinterested.

"Where are they? My aunt and uncle."

Han took in a bushel of air. "In the center of that courtyard," he spoke in the exhale. "We, uh…the Darklighters and me, we poured durocrete in. So the sand wouldn't….you know."

Luke nodded. "That's how it's done on Tatooine. So the sand doesn't expose it, when it storms. The Darklighters would know."

"Would you go back?" Han asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know. Maybe someday. Have you gone back to where you grew up?"

They were in the command center. Leia was there. Luke wondered what she had to do here on Hoth. She seemed to be just supervising. She paced around the various stations, her hands behind her back, looking thoughtful.

"I had two places," Han said unexpectedly. "One I don't remember much. The other I'd burn down if I had the chance."

Luke was taken aback. Han had seen the horror of what happened at Luke's homestead. He'd buried the scorched corpses of his aunt and uncle, and was reticent about describing it to Luke. But here he was declaring a willingness to inflict the same horror on his own memories.

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The scientists predicted the Dry Season would come soon as Hoth's sloppy ellipse continued its lazy orbit around the small sun, and was now as close as it would be.

The Dry Season was aptly named. Daylight lasted a little longer, and there were days when it did not snow at all. It was windy, and for that reason felt colder than Spring Wet. Asteroids fell with more frequency, and patrols were kept busy checking them out. The speeders were, to Dodonna's terrific disappointment, still not working, and command center was outfitted with new heat sensing imaging equipment. This was extremely helpful in case the Empire deployed probes to explore the planet and they landed half a planet away, way too far to travel safely by tauntaun. An asteroid hit the ground at a high temperature and rapidly cooled, whereas a probe maintained the same temperature once it landed.

Space travel was navigable, and a second transport arrived, along with Gold Squadron. The population of tauntauns remained steady, so the same amount of patrols went out each day, but Luke, Han and the other Rogues finally got larger breaks in their schedule, now that Gold could help create some slack.

It was nice to see the weak sun shining, or the light of stars and distant planets as dusk fell, but they had to be extra careful about wampas. The snow creatures were more active this season, and their roars were carried to tauntaun ears on the wind, eerie and dangerous.

Luke was finally back in his X-Wing. The training Rogue Squadron had received from Han in the nav'scopes had been very helpful. If the Empire was ever going to find them, Luke recognized, it would have to be a strike done over land, because the shieldless Tie fighters would be shredded in the merest second they were in the asteroid field.

"Oh, let 'em try," Janson prayed. "We'd have victory and barely have to shoot any down ourselves."

"Hoth owes us that much," Wedge agreed.

"You won't get your wish," Luke told them. "If they're sending probe droids, that kind of information will be included."

"You're crushing my snowman, Skywalker," Hobbie said.

"Don't forget the wampas," Dak cautioned. "They'll take care of a few."

Luke laughed. "Now that I can see."

"Actually, if we don't get those speeders working, we'll be on equal footing. If they get in, they'll malfunction, and we're already malfunctioned."

"Those scientists are useless," Wedge declared. "I can step outside and tell you it's Dry Season. I don't need this latitude equinox shit or whatever they talk about. They can't get a fucking machine to work."

Rogue Squadron had a number of successful missions. They helped evacuate a sleeper cell to a new location, intercepted a supply convoy, and engaged the enemy several times. Spies had somehow obtained a deployment schedule for the smaller Cruisers of the Imperial fleet. Luke had no idea how this was achieved. Probably a spy was an unglamorous communications splicer who really had no contact with any Imperial, but it was entertaining to think of other scenarios, like what he'd seen in the holofilms. Did some stupid Admiral just leave one lying around? Did they pay for it? But the Rogues were sent to lie in wait, not unlike the sand louse of Tatooine, and when the Cruiser dropped out of hyper, the Rebels struck so fast that the Imp Captain barely realized what was going on before the X-Wings disappeared from his scopes, the damage done.

He was briefly reunited with Talna at the sleeper cell. Too briefly, he thought, as they did what he had assured Leia long ago they would do, and resumed right where they left off. Gods but it felt good to have someone, to touch someone.

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Two years for Leia too. And her life was mostly on hold as well, here on Hoth. How did she view things? It occurred to Luke all that led to his coming here was about people where hers most mostly things. Yes, she came away with a farm boy and a smuggler, but the plans, the planet and the battle station were larger factors in her story. And now instead of traveling the galaxy, recruiting and making speeches, she paced the command center, hands clasped behind her back. Her milestone was more public, and Luke couldn't penetrate how she was feeling. Two anniversaries rolled into one. The loss of a planet, the destruction of the Death Star. One so abhorrent to nature, both hallmarks of humankind's genius. She couldn't really feel good about her accomplishment. To feel happy about the Death Star meant in some twisted way she had to believe Alderaan had to happen, and who would ever want for that to happen?

The Alliance was torn, too. The Death Star was a great victory, a huge military achievement that marked a turning point for the war, a moment of maturity for the fledgling government. But you couldn't celebrate the one without the other. The Death Star was remembered on Hoth with a fierce, bloodthirsty satisfaction, behind Leia's back. It was the best the base could do for Princess Leia. To say they were sorry to her, for her, took away from the win. So she paced the command center, and when she was sad Echo Base couldn't be happy, and when she was angry they weren't allowed to be sad.

Dodonna managed to put together something. Rather than a gleeful almost-holiday, they gathered in the large briefing room and held a moment of silence, not just for Alderaan, but for all the pilots killed in the Battle of Yavin. Leia was there, and even Han, who didn't bow his head but moved dark eyes from face to face, and Luke of course, who took a moment to remember Biggs and the Darklighters on Tatooine, and he wondered how they were marking the day. General Rieekan stood at the front of the room next to Dodonna and Leia, and when it seemed he couldn't stand the silence any longer he opened his hands and told the gathering simply, "thank you", and everyone quietly left the room.

The anniversary compelled Mon Mothma to up the stakes a bit. The war was nowhere near won, and public opinion polls showed that while sentimental support for the Alliance was strong, few envisioned its victory. If the Empire was a sun, Luke mused, then it was still high in the sky.

Mothma made a rare appearance on Hoth to meet with the High Council.

"There's a lot going on," Leia told Luke when he dropped by her office to invite her to the _Falcon_ for a meal. "She's concerned with our lack of progress. And intelligence we've received is fairly alarming."

"We've made progress," Luke said defensively. "We've been working our asses off, doing everything they want us to."

Leia nodded appeasingly. "I know." She patted his arm. "But the Empire is like the nokvaks worm- you chop a piece of it off-"

"-and you get two worms," Luke finished the sentence. "The Empire is able to regenerate its losses."

"They're building a second Death Star," Leia said. Luke had to grab the wall of the passage they were navigating and his glove slipped and he stumbled. He couldn't even speak, looking at her composed, tragically wry face. "Happy anniversary, right?" she said.

Luke found his voice. "Let's go, then. That was the intelligence? If they're just building, we can take it out. When-"

"We don't know where," Leia said. "And I doubt they've accomplished much. It's only been two years! But we're looking, obviously. Just as they are looking for us."

"Shit, Leia. I don't know what to say."

"That's pretty much all one can say," she said grimly, though Luke had never heard her use profanity. Leia kept talking, as if this new battle station was just one in a long line of developments. "Politically, we haven't been able to convince the systems that are considering defection, either."

"So what's Council going to do?"

"Flex some muscle. Mon Mothma's idea is to fight the war socially. Beings are aware; they're thinking about things, with the upcoming anniversary, and she wants them to do more than think. She wants to spur them to action."

Luke thought of Beru watching the suns set, aware of her place in the galaxy. And he thought of how he felt so much better, telling Leia about how his aunt and uncle died, how she took his grief. "She's demanding they share the Empire's guilt."

He understood Mothma's plan. It was a weaponless assault, done with words and attitudes. It would be faint, something the Empire wouldn't immediately perceive, but often when the wind picked up one grain of sand others soon joined, and a sand storm had been known to reshape the desert. It would take a while, but that was okay. It already was taking a while. Almost two years so far.

"It means I get to travel finally," Leia said, unable to stop her brow from arching ironically. "I'm being sent to Anobis to give a speech for the anniversary."

Luke felt her pleasure at being able to be more involved. _What do you get a Princess for her anniversary_ , he found himself wondering oddly. _You give her a fight._

Mothma had also carefully orchestrated a public relations campaign. Not only was Leia being sent out, but fellow Alderaanian Rieekan was dispatched to another world to give a speech. Ceremonies were scheduled on each world belonging to the Alliance, and a number of articles, profiles of refugees, and documentaries dotted the holos.

They climbed up the ramp, and Luke smelled cooking. He and Leia made their way to the galley and found Han removing a bowl from the cooker. He glanced at Luke. "It's your stomach that's Force sensitive, kid. Your timing is excellent. Greetings, Your Whiteness."

It had taken Han a little while to come up with this nickname but apparently it appealed to him immensely and he used it often.

"Your Solitude," Leia returned, playing off Han's last name.

He smiled. "I wanted to ask you about the travel docket. How come I'm not taking you to Anobis?"

They settled in their seats around the lounge bench and Luke immediately ladled out some food. Leia watched him, a slight frown on her face. "I hadn't looked," she admitted. "I'm just glad to go. I suppose General Dodonna arranged it."

"That figures," Han said, watching Luke eat. Luke, suddenly self-conscious, pushed the bowl to Leia.

"I don't think Dodonna likes you for some reason," Luke said.

"He's got two reasons," Han counted. "Three. No, four. Wait- five."

Leia smiled.

"I'll talk to him about it," Han decided. "Kata'l won't mind switching."

Luke waved his hand, his mouth too full to talk. He swallowed largely, and finally managed, "Let me." At that, it probably wasn't half bad an idea for Han to accompany Leia, even if his motives were different. "I wouldn't go to Dodoanna with it. I'll get Rieekan to make the switch." He looked at Leia, who was staring at her plate, her fork frozen in the act of stirring. "Good idea, Han."

"I'ts obvious." Han was insulted. "It should be us." Luke couldn't quite read the expression on Leia's face as she looked at Han. Was it relief? "Me and Chewie, and Luke. It's our anniversary, too."

And that was what it took, to see what Leia had been battling these past two years. Not just the Empire, that destroyed her home, but the complete isolation she suffered as both leader of her people, and leader of the Rebellion. Her fork clattered to her plate, and she reached over to hug Han around the neck.

 _What do you get a Princess for her anniversary?_ Luke wondered again. _Someone to share it with._

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Anobis was a planet of contrasts. Beautiful and ugly, pastoral and industrial. But it was warm and sunny, and Chewie was the first one off the ship. He sniffed the air deeply, content.

"No trees," he said. "But no snow, either."

Where were the trees? Luke thought. The valleys were largely agricultural. The land had been cleared. Small towns, farms laid out in a patchwork of squares. The mountains hosted mining corporations, and that land had also been cleared. The farms made the earth looked like it was tended to but it was the mountains that called the eye, because even if you didn't understand what you were looking at you sensed it was wrong.

The mountains were brown. Dirt, Luke realized. No trees, no growth at all. "Are the mountains dead?" he asked, thinking of the brown coloring of Alderaan when viewed from space.

"No," Han said.

"Not even dormant," Leia said. "Not allowed."

Luke glanced back and forth between them.

"The land's been stripped," Han told him. "If the mines were abandoned, trees would return. Eventually," he said.

The arranger of the event hailed from the valleys. She was an energetic human, apparently an old hand at arranging rallies like this, excited yet unfazed by the Princess's attendance. The farming communities, she informed Leia, Luke, and Han, wished to join the Alliance while the mines continued their support of the Empire.

"She's got a tough sell," Han said of Leia's upcoming speech. "Come on, let's go see what kind of security they set up."

The high-profile visit from the Alliance coincided with the planet's Earth Festival. Events were held all over the planet, but Leia would only visit the large port city, which was set in the foothills, between the farming valleys and the active mines.

Luke followed Han around, counting how many ways in and out there were behind the stage and interviewing a few of the posted sentries. Han was intimidating, bullying the sentries and threatening them with retaliation if anything should happen.

"You're tense," Luke said.

"You should be, too," Han retorted. "Look at this place."

Luke saw green valleys in between rolling hills rising ever higher, to bare, jagged peaks dotted with ugly equipment, large container vessels followed by dust as they barreled their way down mountain to the port. "We have our own security team. She'll be fine. What are you worried about?"

Han's chin jutted to the mountains. "The Empire. Chewie, make sure you don't wander off," he ordered his copilot.

Leia was dressed in a long, flowing, cream-colored skirt and a blouse with short, puffed sleeves that fitted at the waist. When the wind blew the fabric of the skirt filled with air, moving in the breeze like the green plants of the valleys.

"You look nice," Luke told her. "Where did you get that outfit?"

Leia took his compliment frankly. "Mon Mothma ordered it for me."

"Her eyesight's going," Han said. "It's not quite white."

"The color," Leia said, holding out the skirt, "is supposed to evoke memories of the Old Republic and democracy. These are a people of tradition, even the miners."

"You still look like a Princess," Han said. Luke couldn't tell whether or not he meant it as a compliment. "We'll wait for you back stage."

For a people of tradition, Luke decided hours later, they sure liked to talk. Speech after speech, starting with the president of the Grain Growers Association. He found his attention wandering at times, but enjoyed the moments of song and dance by arts groups. Leia was last on the program.

She came out to loud applause, though Luke could see way in the back that the mining crowds were making a different noise, and holding up signs. Han straightened in his seat.

It was late afternoon now, and the valleys were cast in shadow. The breeze picked up, ruffling Chewie's fur, and Luke, who never thought he could be cold again unless he was on Hoth, found himself closing his jacket.

On the way from Hoth, Leia had stayed in the crew quarters Han set for her, talking with C-3PO about Anobis, and trying to determine the tone of her speech. She had the farmers, she knew. The trick was reaching the miners.

She did not touch on the war. She spoke of land, and beauty, and freedom. She gave the miners what they wanted to hear, saying she understood how important the mountains were, and that they were strong, and giving. She said how an individual treated his home could yield treasures for years to come, or the individual could be left with nothing.

The sun was setting. It was very large, and red, signalling another hot day. Luke watched it, for Beru.

"If I could know that I reached one of you," Leia began her conclusion, "that I moved you, then I would die a fulfilled being." She paused a moment, then looked up from her flimsi that recorded her notes, her cream-colored dress tinged with the red of the sun set. "You have nobody but yourself. You have to decide what value you place in your life. And you have to live it in the truth it has given you."

Luke nodded to himself as he listened. He liked this part of Leia's speech. It was wise and true, and he was proud to think that his experiences had led him to the same sentiments. He glanced at Han quickly, wondering what he thought, if Han had learned the truth of his life yet.

"I thank you for the invitation to visit your lovely planet. You are lucky to have it." She stepped back, looking delicate and fragile, finished.

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They would lift off in the morning. Chewie took Leia back to the _Falcon_ when she was done while Han and Luke roamed the festival booths and brought back some local fare for their dinner. Chewie took C-3PO to the cockpit to keep watch and let the droid compose a coded message to Mon Mothma. Leia wanted to watch the local holonews coverage of her speech and visit. She seemed more relaxed, relieved.

"Are you glad it's over?" Luke asked her. He and Han sat on either side of Leia on the lounge bench, the engineering console projecting the holonews on the floor. Han had purchased some kaf grown on another continent of Anobis, and they were sipping the warm, bitter beverage. Han drank his straight, but Leia added a lot of cream while Luke preferred sweetener.

"Yes," Leia sighed. "I am. I think it went well, overall. Now I just want to relax."

Luke nodded. "I know what you mean. I was in a play at school once. We rehearsed for months and I just got more and more nervous. Then opening night came, and that was it. I said my lines, I didn' trip. That's what I was worried about," he told them. "It was a weird costume. But after it was over, I felt so relieved, so glad."

"It was a good speech, Your Off-Whiteness," Han said. She was still wearing her skirt and blouse.

"It was," Luke agreed. "I really liked that part you said at the end, about how it's nobody but you."

Leia lay her head on Han's shoulder. "I have nobody but myself."

"It was powerful," Luke said. "I bet you made an impact here."

"We'll see," Leia said. "Given the strength of the economy on the mines here, I doubt I moved anyone to action."

"I don't believe that," Luke argued gently. "You moved me. I'm here because of you." He goggled his eyes at Han, imploring silently, _say something._

"And I..." Han said, clearly searching while Leia lifted her head, amused at his struggle. "I, uh...I came back."

"So, in essence," Leia said dryly, "you moved."

Han smiled, appreciating her humor. "Yeah. That about sums me up."

Chewie appeared from the cockpit. "Han, the event organizer is outside. She wants to speak with the Princess."

"Make sure she's alone," Han directed. "And frisk her."

Leia stirred. "I doubt that's necessary, Han."

"Your Highness," woman rushed breathlessly into the lounge. "We're under attack! The Empire has launched Tie Fighters. They're setting fire to the fields!"

"Shit!" It was the first time Luke heard Leia swear. She jumped up and stared at Han.

"Go!" Han bellowed at the organizer, who dashed out of the ship. "Take us up, Chewie." He next pointed a finger at Luke. "Warm the guns."

Leia dashed past Luke to take a position at one of the quad guns in the turrets. "Tell 3PO to send a message to Command!" she shouted.

"We're on our own, Sweetheart," Han yelled as he made for the cockpit. "There's no way they'll make it in time. It's nobody but ourselves."


	19. Gravity

_AN: I want to give credit where credit is due: Anobis is a planet in the EU universe, mentioned in the New Jedi Order. I chose it for 1) the conflict it mentions between miners and farmers, though my treatment is completely AU and 2) its proximity to Ord Mantell. See where we're going with this? Also, I am no scientist, so please disregard any offense to physics. Thank you all for your continued support!_

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Luke was thinking about fairy tales as he raced behind Leia towards the gun well. She reached it and climbed down; Luke jumped over her descending head to clamber upwards into his own turret.

He'd always been drawn to them, ever since he was a little boy. They were full of adventure, and wild creatures, and underneath the powerful message of good against evil there was always romance, magic and friendship. His imagination had been fueled by the brave knight rescuing the princess, a whole kingdom's peace and prosperity at stake because of a cruel giant or heartless wizard. These were the things you could count on: true love was found within the quest, there was the power of uncovered magic, and after the final showdown the hero emerged victorious.

And fairly tales were simple, at heart. It was always so clear, what needed to be done, the lesson learned. He'd never been in doubt that the heroes could fail.

He'd thought, when he met Ben and boarded the _Millennium Falcon_ , which would carry him away to begin his adventure, he'd finally entered the fairy tale his own heart had been telling him all his life. He was the humble farm boy destined for greatness. The Force was the magic; Chewie was the unique creature with a distinct ability; Leia the noble, beautiful princess and Han the staunch ally.

What was frustrating, he thought as he climbed the ladder into the upper gun turret, was nothing was as clear cut as it was in the fairy tale. The mentoring wizard was dead, the evil that needed to be destroyed seemed to grow stronger, even as the farm boy was hailed as the hero. And he might fail. He was at the part of the story where the princess needed to be rescued again, his hand holding hers over the cliff in a slippery grasp, the smuggler trying to help by climbing down but the ground was crumbling under his feet.

"You both strapped in?" Han's voice sounded in his earpiece.

Han didn't fit as easily in a classic version, but in Luke's story, he was smuggler of his own goodness. Motives unclear; not wholly good and familiar with evil. His true heart would be revealed with love's kiss. Right now Han sounded unworried, casual; as if warships appearing with his after dinner drink was a routine occurrence. Luke turned his seat again to see down the gun well, and saw Leia adjusting her safety harnessing. "Yeah," he answered Han, his own voice coming out relaxed, yet tense.

There was something wrong with this fairy tale. The Princess, who was only supposed to turn all she met from evil with her pure heart, simple truth, and beauty, was manning a gun.

Damn Empire. He thought of Rieekan and Mothma delivering their own anniversary tributes, and wondered if the Empire had inserted themselves into those events as well. Where was the epic showdown? Why were they still at this point where things were so uncertain?

And the evil wasn't so simple. In fairy tales the hero might meet a giant, who was base and violent and destructive, and who could be undone with a simple weapon. Or, the evil was a dark wizard who had strange powers, and the hero only had to overcome obstacles before delivering the counter remedy. This evil, the Empire, was both. It was huge, like a giant that had a hundred heads and a thousand arms, and while the heroes fought it, from afar it had the power to unleash a breath of poisonous gas, wisps finding the tiny moments in life, curling itself around unseen, placing those who breathed it under its spell and others into a deep sleep.

He swiveled in his seat, fastening the restraints, and saw Leia shifting in her own seat, gathering, he knew, that resolve.

 _Damn_ the Empire, he swore. Just when things were going – he couldn't say great, but smooth – just when Leia had put another year behind her, comforted by the fact that the galaxy made a point to remember. When she could approach it without overwhelming grief, her farm boy and smuggler at her elbow.

"We're with you, Leia, you know that, right?" he called down the gun well. She made no answer.

There was a mixture of emotions coming off her, a dangerous combination. Despair, hurt, even a bit of paranoia. Damn Empire. Guilt. Fury, at herself because she had such guilt, and at the Empire, for causing it. Worry. For Anobis. For Luke, and Han. Not for herself.

"They're not after you," he shouted, hoping to shift her perspective.

"Just what I stand for," she retorted bitterly.

Luke turned on the sightings grid and the square blocks of digital measurement made his mind jump to Rieekan's son, studying to be an architect, who graphed a model of Leia's palace for math class. He had strayed into the path of the giant, and no matter what magic the hero learned, the young student of noble birth would never be seen again.

Fairy tales could be read different ways. He'd never known that before. He never thought anyone could see the Princess as the one who caused harm, that the giant was merely defending its home. Had anyone seen that it was a woman who stood on the stage and thanked the populace for the invitation to speak, or did they see Alderaan, pleading for memory? Was it Princess Leia telling them to treasure their home, asking for their involvement to protect it, or was it Alderaan, warning of interference and loss?

Luke had been in the audience, and he had witnessed the lovely, young Princess of his fairy tale. Warm, and smart; dressed in near white; she spoke not in warning, but in dulcet tones of memory and longing. She reminded Anobis of what they had, what they stood to lose.

But then the Empire came, and showed Anobis a different, uncompromising Leia, an Alderaan sacrificed. Her stark color contrasted sharply against the green fields and the blue sky and the soft lines of empathy were replaced with harsh demand and blame.

And here they were now, his Princess ready to fire a laser cannon, all thoughts of Alderaan aside as she prepared to defend Anobis. _Damn them all to hells,_ Luke thought.

"You, too, Princess?" Han double checked from the cockpit.

"Yes!" she snapped. Her voice was tense too, but not at all relaxed. Impatient, aggressive. Luke thought it a good thing she was a gunner. She could pour her aggression out in the release button of the laser cannon. And not make the mistakes an impatient pilot made.

There was no time to think, as Han surged the _Falcon_ over the wake of damage the Tie fighters carved in the farm fields of Anobis, but Luke's mind raced anyway, ahead of the Ties, cursing the Empire, uncharacteristically angry. His fairy tale was suffering another setback. The Empire had turned Leia's day on its end, and it pissed him off no end.

It was minor, really, what he found his thoughts drawn to. Nothing like an exploded planet or bodies dying as they fled their burning home. That was war, and with a little self-pity Luke realized he had come to accept that. They were at war with the Empire, and war brought death and destruction until one side couldn't deliver it anymore and the war stopped.

And Luke had done his share for the Alliance. He'd blown up the Death Star. It was not only a battle station; it was a place where a large number of people lived and worked; people who no doubt had families just as he and Leia had.

He had to consciously erase the human factor in war. Beings factor, he reminded himself. Otherwise he might not be able to live with himself. Leia couldn't erase the human factor of Alderaan, and she had trouble coping. The war was for the benefit of the whole galaxy, not just humans. But you couldn't let yourself dwell on the individual lives. It had to be done. It was war. Such was the price of victory. Loss, too.

But he had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't too different than a lot of the Tie pilots he went up against. If it were a different situation, say a fueling station, or a cantina. They would nod at each other, walk around the other's ship, start talking specs. Buy each other a drink, swap stories.

But it was the little things Luke had come to value. Quiet moments, sneaking joy. A Princess's head on a smuggler's shoulder. Gentle conversation, unwinding together after a long day. How dare the Empire find those? How dare they interrupt, how dare they never give the Princess a moment's rest, to let her forget for just one measly hour?

Han said something and Luke missed it. It was probably for Leia's benefit anyway. Luke knew what he was doing. This was just another rush to weapons, another dogfight. He'd done this before.

But he'd never done it on a planet's surface before. His practiced eye took in the land features, felt the pull of his weight as he climbed in the seat. There was gravity on Anobis. It was one thing to take off and land in atmo; it might be another matter entirely to actually fight in it.

Han was hard to read right now, other than focused concentration. He didn't seem angry or surprised. He wasn't thinking about the little things. Neither was Leia. Damn Empire.

"Do I compensate for mass?" he asked Han.

"What affects us affects them," Han gave a typical non-answer.

From his position in the turret Luke could see a moon in a night sky but not much else. "What do we got?" he said, moving the microphone closer to his mouth.

He was thinking of asking Leia to switch seats with him. The quads were located in the center of the ship, one emerging on top of the ship's hull, and the second under the belly. In space, this meant nothing; there was no top or bottom. Flying over land it was a different story. One gunner would see only sky and the other ground. Luke had climbed up. Leia's view was farm fields. And Tie fighters. And fire.

"Comin' up on 'em," Han answered tersely. "I count three."

Luke heard Chewie in the background, agreeing. C-3PO said, "Captain Solo, I've alerted the Civilian Services Division. They will be sending out emergency environmental response craft."

Nobody answered him. "To put out the fires," he added needlessly.

"Three's not bad," Leia murmured hopefully.

"That's the good news, Sweetheart. The bad is it could mean a Destroyer's out there with a whole hangar to launch if they need to."

"Oh, dear," 3-PO said.

"Tip of the Lambda," Luke breathed to himself.

"What's the plan?" Leia asked. "We need to draw them away from the fields."

"They're going to hit the ground if we score," Luke noted. "Cause more damage."

"Sometimes you gotta make a little to prevent worse," Han said sagely.

"Not this time," Leia argued quietly. "We can't just defend Anobis; we have to protect it."

"It's just three, Sweetheart," Han said. "We can take 'em out easy and get away in hyper before whatever is waiting for us in orbit even knows what happened."

"And have whatever is out there send more down to finish their demonstration? No," Leia said in finality.

Luke remained silent on his end but he listened to their conversation intently, thinking how the two viewpoints highlighted the contradiction within the Alliance.

Han's solution was currently the Alliance's strategy. Luke saw it now for what it was, and that it would never be enough.

The Alliance was a gnat flitting around a giant's head. Annoying and distracting. the best it could hope for was that the giant would slap its own face as it tried to swat the pest. The end result could either be the death of the pest, or a giant temporarily stung but further enraged. The Alliance's terrorist strategy let the Empire know there was unrest and a growing movement towards change, but it was unlikely more gnats were enough to topple the giant.

Leia's perspective of the war held that the giant was the pest, like an invasive species that moved in and destroyed an ecosystem. The Alliance was every member within that system, joining together to rid itself of the giant.

Luke wasn't sure the Alliance was big enough to act out Leia's version. But just like the risky start of the rebellion, change had to start somewhere. And with the prospect of a second Death Star, he was feeling a bit more frantic.

Luke heard Han exhale loudly in his earpiece. "Alright, then," Han said with unhappy conviction. "That means we become the demonstration."

"If that's what it takes."

"Sweetheart…." Han sighed again. "Alliance is paying for whatever repairs, you hear?"

Luke turned in his seat toward Leia's and they grinned at each other.

"Hit 'em, but don't hit 'em," Han instructed, now all business. "We'll piss them off, and if they're as stupid as we think they are, they'll follow us up."

Leia still wore her grin. "Aye, Captain," she said.

"Chewie, lateral thrust in...now."

Chewie complained about the lack of notice, and Han yelled back about calculating acceleration, and Luke felt a sudden pressing in his seat as Han steered the _Falcon_ in a steep vertical climb. He let out a shout of thrill.

In atmosphere, the _Falcon_ should fly in a lateral position, the cockpit pointing in the direction the freighter was headed, and maintaining a horizontal plane of air between ship and ground. But Han had stood her on her end. Now it was the cockpit that stared at sky while Luke and Leia had a view of the three Ties in front of them.

And they were still approaching. Lateral thrusters pushed the ship sideways, which in this position was forward. Luke whooped again. "You're crazy!" he shouted in delight. Out his view port he saw the three Ties in perfect symmetry close to the ground. They looked somehow relaxed and calm, even as dirt showered upwards and greenery flattened under their afterburners. Fires had ignited when they'd hit farm vehicles and were spreading slowly.

Leia fired first, while they were still too far away. She aimed the cannon high, so the bolt arced high above the Ties, coming to land in front of them, it's energy expended and falling harmlessly to the ground.

"Good shot," Luke said, who found it difficult to aim without intention of damage. An Imp was lined up perfectly in his grid screen, but he aimed the cannon three degrees off, a warning shot. The three Ties turned as one to meet the _Falcon_ head on. The ship rocked with the first shots.

Luke could hear C-3PO practically screaming. "Oh! Don't! Captain Solo, I detest this!"

"I'm flipping us," Han decided, again with no warning, and Luke's perspective shifted dizzily fast, lines blurring, and instead of being pressed into his seat he was uncomfortably pushed against his restraints.

"Keep it up," Leia encouraged under her breath.

Luke was jolted sharply downward as a Tie aimed for his turret and he found his thumb had reacted reflexively on the firing mechanism. His shot landed on a corner of the Tie's solar panel, causing it to wobble dangerously.

"Did they score one?" Leia asked anxiously.

Han's voice was dripping sarcasm. "No, we hit a cloud. Luke?"

"I'm okay," he told them. "Shields down twenty percent, though."

Han flipped them again and kept the _Falcon_ at a vertical bank, heading up and out of atmosphere.

"Two are following," Leia announced triumphantly.

"I see it," Han called from the cockpit. "Looks like the one Junior hit can't make the climb."

Luke checked his own scopes and saw that indeed one Tie had broken off from the group and was making its way toward the port. "That was a Force shot," he said. It was; he was glad for it. He was trained for the kill shot, and he'd reacted instinctively, and it hadn't been a kill shot.

"Lucky shot," Han contradicted him.

It would take a few minutes to leave atmosphere. Luke looked down the gun well out Leia's view port. Emergency aircraft were on the scene. Luke watched in fascination as jets of water shot out of one along a field, changing the red fire to wet smoke. "They use water," he marveled aloud.

The _Falcon_ continued her climb away from Anobis' surface, deftly avoiding any cross fire from her pursuers. Luke felt a little useless, sitting in the turret, waiting, but there was little he could do until they were past atmosphere.

"At least we got them away," Luke said, offering some comfort to Leia.

She was still watching out her view port at activity planetside. Ships left vapor trails across the dark sky as they hurried elsewhere to put out fires. "It could have been worse," she said. "Thank the Force they didn't hit a settlement."

Chewie and Han were talking about something, but they weren't using the intercom, and Luke couldn't make out any words. "This wasn't a coincidence," he said to Leia.

"No," Leia agreed. "This was in answer to us being here. It was reinforcing the miners' position and threatening the farmers'. Hit their livelihood. They want them frightened."

Luke offered a differing viewpoint. "Maybe it backfired. Do this on their holiday? It's one thing to hit their source of economy. But to do it today, of all days- that's their identity, you know? For the miner's too- they attended the festival. They might not necessarily have liked you, but they came. I bet they don't like the Empire destroying their earth, either."

"Well," Leia began, "there's-" but Han, once again using the intercom, broke in.

"Our lucky day, kids," he said. "Not a Destroyer. Looks like half a fighter wing, minus the one down on Anobis. Chewie and me got a plan."

Luke flexed his fingers on the firing stick and steeled himself. Thirty-five Ties. Against one smuggling freighter. "It's up to your shields," he told Han.

"Not even that. It's fairly hopeless, but Chewie likes those odds."

"Captain Solo," C-3PO could be heard in the background, "the chance for success is so remote that it cannot even be considered probability." Chewie growled loudly. "If we just launch ourselves back into hyperspace-"

"It's not just us, 3PO," Leia interrupted. "We need to protect Anobis. What do you have in mind, Han?"

"You two keep your eyes closed, and don't let go of the trigger. Keep firing. Chewie and I will do what we can."

"Keep our eyes closed?" Leia said, completely dubious.

Luke spotted the Imperial cruiser. "They're in formation already."

"What kind of fool strategy is-" Leia started to say.

"Get ready. Heading in."

"Heading-" Leia echoed, but then she screamed.

Luke wanted to scream, or shout, and even laugh, if it all wasn't so crazy, suicidal, inspired. The _Falcon_ spun and spiraled in its own space, a satellite around each Tie, weaving in and around their formation. He disobeyed the recommendation to close his eyes and forced them to stay open, until they bulged and strained and it became physically painful. But he wanted to watch- it was so damn fantastic- and he rammed his head against his seat; the only part of his body moving was his thumb, convulsing over the firing mechanism constantly, his eyes frozen and wide, face in a grimace of fear and delight. There was no noise from the cockpit- were they still piloting? or was the ship spiraling out of control- but Leia was screaming; threats, exclamations, something vague about an amusement park ride Luke did not understand. Sensations trickled at him but he knew there was no time to deal with them now, to understand them for what they were, when they were. Leia's screaming, the dizzying movement of the ship, her whip-fast turns interrupted by rocking jolts.

The _Falcon_ was taking a lot of damage. That he knew for a fact without anything informing him. From the view port he saw the freighter with her heavy shielding clip the foil panels of Ties, send them knocking into each other, into the _Falcon_ ; there were blasts and a spreading out of broken matter.

This was better than the Reverse Slash; this was taking everything anyone knew about battles- flying for that matter- and throwing it out the window. Han had his ship occupy space it didn't belong: in between Ties in their precise Lambda formation. With the Rogues, Luke had gone over them, under and around them, but he'd never thought to insert himself _in_ them, barge in on their formation and everything it meant. Lambda was a statement of reputation, of intimidation, identity even, and Han turned it upside down. He was mocking them. He might kill Luke and Leia in the process, but the Empire, that giant, was undone by a gnat.

C-3PO's voice sounded distressed in his ear. "Master Luke, you are about to lose your shields -"

"Get out, kid." Han added in afterthought, as if it took him a moment to register 3PO's assessment.

"But-"

"I said get out!"

"How's Leia?"

3PO shrieked in alarm. Then he said, "Master Luke, you must leave!"

Luke unstrapped and found himself rooted to his seat. His harness should have dropped off his lap and shoulder, but it was- rising.

"Get her out, seal it!"

His headset was drifting upwards also.

"Luke!" Leia called.

He stood, and wasn't on the floor. He tried to walk, and his legs didn't obey. They moved behind him, his head pointing downward. From upside down, the _Falcon_ rolled and looped and Luke was suddenly nauseous. He grabbed the sighting grid and pushed against it, and his body floated toward the ladder. He kept his hands out to grab it.

Leia was trying to climb out of the gun well. She crawled, even though she was upright, her foot caught in the rungs to hold the rest of her still. "Where's the seal?" she asked anxiously. Her face was pale and tinged green.

"Get out to the corridor," Luke directed.

Han was flying at them. Luke couldn't get used to it, this weightlessness. Han was coming at them, fast; faster than Luke with his dreamy floating. Han pawed, or swam through tools, rolls of tape, a ration bar, mug, all just hovering. He let himself collide with the wall, using a bolt as a hand hold, and grabbed Leia's shirt. He tossed her, and slipped off his tiny hand hold, sliding away from Luke. As she floated away rapidly, Luke got a glimpse at her angry face and swirling skirt.

"Don't either of you throw up," Han ordered. "Grab me." Luke reached out for Han and just barely managed to get a fistful of shirt. Somehow Han turned and clutched at Luke's own. "Let go of the ladder," he snarled, and soon Luke had been thrown and was trailing after Leia, who, in the effort of collecting her skirt, was tumbling head over heels. A spanner hit Luke in the shoulder. He heard a noise, and turned his head, like in slow motion. The gun well seal lumbered into place.

"Chewie!" Han bellowed.

Luke's body followed his head and he found himself floating backwards. "Stop me," he told Han.

Han had pushed himself off the floor and was rising toward the ceiling. "I'm glad the seal functioned. If we were to breach..." He gave Luke a push and held his breath, listening, and seemed to relax when a distinct thunk sounded.

"What was that?" Leia asked anxiously, holding on to a pipe.

Han had stopped his own momentum when he pushed Luke. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs wildly, trying to propel himself somewhere but basically remained in the same place. "Hyper drive. Grab some of these tools, will you?"

"Did we lose a turret?" Luke panted, pushing off the ceiling.

"Might have. Somebody get me moving."

Leia left her pipe, launching herself toward Han. "We lost something," she remarked dryly, and collided into Han's open arms.

"A few somethings," he agreed.

"Should I be amazed we can still breathe?" she tried to push off his chest.

Han gave her a slight grin. "You might want to keep a mask nearby, just in case."

Luke careened himself off the floor to sail under Han and Leia. He grabbed Leia's boot and sent her off. "I wonder what the _Falcon_ looks like from the outside. Han, that was incredible," he said weakly.

"I know," Han said smugly. "You both did your fair share, too."

"With our eyes closed," Leia added.

Luke smiled. He didn't tell either Han or Leia he'd kept his open. "How many did we take out?"

"I don't know." Han smiled back, fighter pilot to fighter pilot. "Quite a few. Too bad we didn't have time to load the missiles. Could have hit the cruiser too. Sent them all limping back to the shipyard."

"Where should I put the tools?" Luke had gathered three different spanners, some wire, and was now reining in the long cord of the soldering iron.

Chewie appeared, and Luke grinned at his appearance, floating as they were, the huge Wookiee as weightless as them, the hairs of his fur spread out. He grumbled at Han, something, Luke thought, about a mess.

"Next time put it on my calendar when an Imp's due to shoot out the grav and I'll clean up," Han retorted. He turned to Luke. "Tool chest is over there."

Luke aimed and pushed himself, and overshot it. He had to wait until he collided with the opposite wall to try again. As he sailed uselessly on, he wondered about the droid. It was strangely quiet. "How's 3PO?"

For some reason, Chewie thought the question was hilarious. He mimed with his hands, hooting with laughter, elbows bent stiffly at an angle, and floated off.

"He's still in the cockpit." Han was amused too. "I asked him to stand by the turret seal and let me know you guys were out, but he just floated up to the ceiling when he got out of the seat." Han began a comical yet accurate imitation of the droid's prissy vocal pattern. "Captain Solo," he said crisply, "it appears the gravity modulators have failed. Oh dear. We're doomed!"

Chewie laughed some more. "He was screaming for us to get him down, and he was grabbing my head, so I shut him down." Luke scowled in disapproval.

"So we're in hyper?" Leia asked. She was gathering her skirt folds in one hand while hanging on to a pipe again. Her eyes were closed.

"Barely," Han said, which didn't make sense to Luke. Either you were or you weren't. Or you were about to fall out, and Luke didn't want to think about that. "Ever been in zero G?" Han asked her. "Takes a little getting used to."

Leia shook her head. "I'm fine."

"You look pale, Leia," Luke told her. "I know I felt sick when I first felt it."

She shook her head once at him, not discussing it. "What happens now?"

Han sobered. "Well. Need to land and get a damage report. I'm not risking going all the way back to Hoth and havin' her fall apart."

Luke shrugged. "Go back to Anobis?"

"I wonder what's happening on Anobis," Leia said quietly.

"I'd like to know if Rieekan had trouble," Han said. "Or Mothma."

"I thought about that, too," Luke put in.

"I'd say it's a safe bet," Leia stated.

"Can we land, though?" Luke asked. He knew gravity modulators on ships were more than for passenger's comfort where there was no gravity.

"Nowhere there's an atmosphere," Han confirmed. "We'd burn up on entry. That's the most important function of the gravity modulators, besides keeping skirts down," Han winked at Leia.

Leia ignored his comment. "What about the Empire?"

"What about 'em?" Han dismissed her concerns. "They're licking their wounds."

Luke grinned, going back to the battle. "One against thirty-five. Wait'll Command hears about this."

"I'm sure they'll hate it," Han grunted, aiming his body and launching himself toward the cockpit. "Just 'cause it's me. They'll say we shouldn't have gone after 'em."

"They can say all they want," Leia said with a quiet firmness as she sailed after him. "We did the right thing."

"Glad you're happy, Princess. You both can come up front and strap in," Han offered, "to keep yourselves in place."

"Will it keep the queasiness at bay?" Leia asked, patting her head. "My head feels full. And I think my hair pins are going to come out."

"I definitely don't want to stay like this all the way to Hoth," Luke said. "Grab the threshold and we should be able to reach a seat," he told Leia. "Hey!" he interrupted himself, scowling anew. C-3PO floated towards them, bent at the middle, photo receptors dark. "They really are so inconsiderate, you know?" he complained of Han and Chewie.

They reached the cockpit finally. Chewie was still chortling about the droid. "Have some respect," Luke grumbled, but it made Chewie laugh more. Luke had to keep pushing on Leia's shoulders to keep her in the seat until she was able to bring the restraints across her lap.

"How are you going to stay down?" she asked. She had stretched out her arm, but the seat was too far away for her to reach.

"I'll use my feet." He hooked his ankle under the captain's seat and grabbed at the floating belt. Han and Chewie were already strapped down in their respective seats, deep in discussion.

"Where are we headed?" Luke asked. His legs were stretched out almost completely and his shoulder blades touched the edge of the seat.

"Looking," Han said.

"Somewhere out of system," Leia said. "The Empire is all over this part of space."

Han shook his head. "Can't."

"Damn Empire," Luke sighed. Even with the toe of his boot holding him to Han's seat he couldn't bring his rump close enough.

"Captain," Leia began imperiously, "they have enough manpower out here to calculate possible landings for us and have each one monitored. We're in enemy territory." She glanced sharply at Luke, who was trying to lay the belt over his chest, thinking he might be able to wriggle into a seated position from there.

"Don't worry," Han soothed. "I'll find somewhere friendly."

Luke frowned at Han. "I don't think friendly is the same thing to smugglers as it is to Princesses."

"Of course it isn't," Leia said. "Princesses are pledged support and assistance. Smugglers only say they'll try to look the other way."

"Look," Han snapped. "I don't think you two realize how serious this is. The _Falcon_ can't even talk to me. There's three computer modules runnin' her, and one of them is completely dark."

Luke saw that Han, underneath the lightness, was honestly worried for his ship. Maybe for her occupants too. "Is there an atmosphereless moon nearby?"

"I can do you better than that," Han said. "The Solo luck is still holding. Anobis is part of the Bright Jewel Cluster, which means Ord Mantell is close by."

"Ord Mantell?" Leia repeated faintly, lifting a shaking hand to her forehead, as if she was pulling information out. "The tourist trap?"

"Tourist trap?" Luke's curiosity was peaked. He honestly could say he'd never visited a tourist trap. "What makes it a tourist trap?"

"That's said about the planet," Han said, eyeing Leia suspiciously. "It's a popular trading post. Lots of casinos. But we'll head for the Wheel."

"I'd always heard stay off the Wheel," Leia said.

"What's the Wheel?" Luke asked.

Han shrugged indifferently. "The crime rate don't bother me."

"Because you add to it," Leia said dryly.

"It's a space station over the planet," Han finally answered Luke's question. "It's perfect."

"I seem to recall a smuggler built it?" Leia said with distaste.

"Got something against smugglers, Sweetheart?" Han said snidely. "It's got no atmosphere. And it's friendly. Perfect."

Chewie leaned over to show Han a flimsi. "Yeah, that one's fine," Han said. "I think. That's not the one we used when we jetted off from Katoday with the gems, was it?"

Chewie shook his shaggy head, even larger and shaggier in the zero G.

"What is it?" Luke asked, still struggling. He couldn't get his rear into the seat.

"A fake registration."

"I thought you said friendly," Leia jumped. "Now you're afraid to show your face?"

"Your face," Han growled at her.

Luke gave up his fight against gravity. "Han, can you help me here?"

Han looked over his shoulder at Luke struggling against his own weightlessness. He tucked his lip into his cheek in amused understanding and shoved Luke in a downward motion with an outstretched arm. Luke quickly wrested the belt over his lap. "Thanks." He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, glad to be in a sitting position.

"I feel like we're not done," Luke said. Neither Han or Leia made a reply, so he added, "like something's gonna happen."

"'Course something's gonna happen," Han groused. "You want time to stand still?"

"I'd like it go backwards," Luke said with a sigh. "Damn the Empire, you know? It's like the gravity went out long before. They try and turn your words around, Leia, when it was a good speech. And Han, trying to not kill Imps and flying sideways."

Han looked at Leia. "Should I say thanks?" She shook her head with a tired roll of an eye.

"And now 3PO's floating all over the ship," Luke concluded.

Leia gave a slight laugh. "He's a droid, Luke. He can't get hurt, and he doesn't have feelings to get hurt."

"He's built like the _Falcon_ ," Chewie observed.

"Watch it -" Han threatened.

"-with used components, parts that don't belong at all." Chewie shrugged. "You get unexpected results."

"If something don't work like it should, I replace it," Han said. "That droid needs a new idio module."

Leia tossed a gentle smile at Luke. "I'm used to 3PO. I've known him all my life."

"Great," Han interrupted. "Your only souvenir from Alderaan."

Luke froze with widened eyes at the insensitivity of the statement, but Leia actually laughed, surprising even herself. "You put it like that, it's ironic, isn't it? I suppose that's why I wouldn't want to see an idio change."

"His works, too," Luke thought out loud. He was remembering his initial reaction to the droid, one of annoyance, and how that shifted. "He- if he wasn't a droid, I'd have said he was sincerely frightened a couple of times. Like when R2 ran away. I actually feel protective of him."

"That's how he keeps purpose," Han said. "You keep him useful and he stays out of the trash heap."

"Maybe," Luke allowed. "In any case, I don't want to change him either. It wouldn't feel like it was the same droid."

"But it would be," Han argued.

Luke opened his mouth to retort but Leia had stretched out her arm to him. "Leave it," she said quietly, maybe not loud enough for Han to hear her. "Captain Solo has a unique outlook on life. He could use a new idio himself."

True, Luke thought. Han was practical, and unsentimental, just as Luke's uncle was too, but they were completely different. Uncle's gruffness came from structure and regiment but Han was as unpredictable as wild space. In a way, it was like Han continuously operated with his gravity modulators shot out. Other beings understood a groundwork of behavior, carried a set of expectations, were rooted by a shared knowledge of how to interact with each other.

And it wasn't always a drawback. They survived going against thirty-five Ties, didn't they?

A short while later the _Falcon_ shuddered into real space. Luke didn't know what he pictured when they said the Wheel. Something round, sure. Something a little more substantial. The Wheel was one level, an incomplete circle, with spokes radiating from a center. It looked like the _Falcon_ \- or now the _Sun's Paradise_ , as the fake registration proclaimed- it looked as run down and beat up. Leia had spent the journey with her eyes closed and fingers massaging her temple, fighting off the space sickness. Now she was watching their approach as Han hailed the dock and requested a tractor beam. She and Luke shared a look of unease.

He could ask Han, are you sure about this, he could voice his own uncertainty. They'd reached the part in the fairy tale where the heroes enter the mysterious, dark forest, only this was a seedy, unattractive place. They were about to face a challenge.

But Ord Mantell was attractive, and Luke figured that was a trait a tourist trap should have. A pink covering of delicate clouds covered the planet, and there were several moons nearby. He hoped, if things went smoothly, he'd have a chance to travel dirtside and experience a tourist trap.

The tractor beam took hold of the freighter, and now Han and Chewie stopped talking. As they were brought into the dock, and the artificial environment enveloped them, they all heard 3PO crash to the deck.


	20. Going in Circles

"One day under our belt," Luke hailed Han before heading out on his pedestrian patrol.

"One day closer to capture," Han sang back with black humor.

Han told him patrols were important, even here, so he walked, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of ships, trying to familiarize himself with the occupants of the Wheel. "Act friendly," was Han's advice; he meant keep to himself and mind his own business.

The Wheel wasn't yet a wheel. The structure contained two circles. The smaller, inner one was complete, and consisted of private offices, lodging, a casino, and the only dining establishment. Passages, seven complete and two still under construction, connected the unfinished, larger wheel, where the _Sun's Paradise_ sat in bay three. Leia called each passage a radius and Han said they were spokes. C-3PO told Luke either term was correct. These were busy places, lined with shops offering all sorts of sales and services. Sharpeners, tools, parts used and new; rentals, storage, even tour packages to Ord Mantell.

Docking bay, view port, docking bay, view port. A rhythmic alternation as Luke walked; one, then the other. He walked back and forth along the Wheel, his thoughts narrowing and expanding according to what he saw before him. Dingy and gritty, or unknown and beautiful. Activity and productivity gave way to imagination and dreaming.

There was a large mix of life forms. Still, Luke realized, humans represented a very large number. He walked on, stopped to admire the sight from the next viewport. The pink clouds of Ord Mantell spread before him, shifting into gray. It was storming dirtside.

He passed docking bay thirteen. Funny how the humans looked alike when set next to other species. Beings whose skin was colored blue, or covered in scales, or had eight eyes. The humans just faded into the backdrop, so ordinary.

Docking bay, view port. Luke brushed his fingers against the wall, reciting a child's rhyme.

 _I'tana, I'tana, I'tana, Oh. I must choose before I go._

 _Swing it swiftly to and fro, now I choose before I go._

 _Spin my heart until it stops, I beg you please to not say no._

Beru sang it to him when he was very young. Her game was which hand was the cookie in. He spun and spun until he was so dizzy he fell into her lap, touching a fist. "That one." She would open her palm, and there was always a cookie in it. She never said no.

Luke reached a dead end at bay sixteen and stopped for a moment to watch the construction crew float around, tethered to a portable dock, in their survival suits outside the Wheel. They had to be so careful, he thought. A tear, a misstep... left to the harsh mercy of space. It reminded him of his own precarious circumstance, so he turned around and scanned the crowd, picking out the Twi'lek in coveralls who had chatted with Han earlier. Glancing at his chrono, he detoured to a spoke to the inner circle and ordered food to bring back to the ship.

Han was unpacking a box in bay three. He pulled what looked like miles and miles of wiring, red, black, white and yellow, attached to...some housing or other. Luke had fixed droids and condensers on the farm and he maintained his X-Wing, but he couldn't identify what most of the parts were Han was either installing or dismantling.

The ship stood, quiet and wounded. Luke was sorry. He thought of the _Falcon_ as one of them, part of their team. Red Five was here, as was the Princess of Alderaan, the wanted smuggler that stole the ship back from the Death Star. Luke wore a hat to cover his sandy hair; Leia was inside the freighter, sewing pants into skirt and doing her hair. The _Falcon_ 's only disguise was a fake name, the _Sun's Paradise_. But the mere fact she was a YT freighter, the evidence of her battle, her presence on the Wheel, would bring the Empire. And now there was nothing she could do to stop it, when she'd always been so helpful. And there was little they could do for her.

Fix her, that was all. And Han was going to.

That's how they referred to their imminent capture, as 'when the Empire comes'. Not 'our arrest', or 'our capture', or even 'our execution'. Luke didn't see it happening suspensefully, like being cornered; or violent, like a shootout on the Wheel. Luke sort of imagined trumpets, and messengers with scrolls. Something fit for a princess.

If his life were a holofilm, something dramatic would happen. Rieekan would deploy the Rogues, and they'd arrive, in perfect timing, shooting up the Wheel, or Luke would discover some vacuum-breathing creature that could fly him across the broken section of the Wheel to safety. But no. This was real life, and they would- hopefully, but probably not- escape the Empire by themselves.

Han was spreading a story. Luke wasn't to talk to anyone but Han was affable and gossipy. Luke was a wealthy investor traveling in the _Sun's Paradise_ through the Jewel Cluster with his wife and Wookiee slave, when they were attacked by pirates. Han was in their employ as pilot.

Han was in contact with droids, service techs, and salesbeings. He fleshed out the personalities of their fictional roles that Luke, at first, thought was unnecessary. Extravagant, almost; just Han, entertaining himself.

For instance, Luke was spoiled and lazy; trying to emerge from the shadow of his father. "She's not a bad ship, but just because daddy bought her for you doesn't mean pirates are gonna back down," he heard Han tell a being making a delivery. Another time Han sighed loudly, signing for the new sensor suite, "Cap'n thinks spending for top of the line is going to keep him out of trouble. You ask me, trouble's gonna find him, outfitted like this."

Leia had heard this last, too, Han's voice floating to them from up the open ramp. She grinned wryly. "Perhaps he's speaking autobiographically now?"

Mrs., as Han referred to Leia, was too traumatized to emerge just yet. "First time she flew with us, too, and we get hit by pirates." She, according to Han, was demanding and commanding. "He calls himself captain, but I can't make a move without Mrs. saying so, hear what I'm saying?" he winked.

Han didn't have the Force, and it took a lot longer than it did for Ben, who merely waved his hand, but Luke felt secure Han had just as effectively influenced the way beings thought about the occupants of the _Sun's Paradise_. Han was a weary and put-upon employee, there was a dejected Wookiee slave, a wealthy businessman with father issues- Han was perceptive, Luke thought- and his spoiled wife.

If you asked C-3PO there was no way they were going to get out of this. They were all worried. To cope, Han made inside jokes at Luke and Leia's expense while conning the Wheel and Luke called Leia 'Wife' and she answered, both fighting breaking out in a fit of laughter, 'Husband'.

There was worry, but there was humor in the worry. It helped to ease the tension. Luke and Leia were Husband and Wife even when they didn't have an audience.

It was an equalizing experience, acting as Leia's Husband. He still doted, put her on a pedestal, but for a time she wasn't his Princess. Somehow it was different. He was given a kind of permission, as was she, to relax in front of each other. They joked, finished each other's sentences, and did their best to irritate Han and Chewie with imaginary stories of their courtship.

Luke ambled up the ramp with his satchels of food. "Morning, Wife," he greeted. "Breakfast," he announced, holding a bag up.

Leia was sitting serenely, entering words against the Empire into a flimsi. Leaving a record, Luke observed. She expected this. Not _this_ precisely; she was no predictor of the future. But she saw herself on borrowed time, always seeking to borrow more. And time had run out, or would very soon, anyway.

Luke opened the carton of sweet rolls, releasing the steamy aroma to the lounge. He ripped off a piece. "Try some, Wife."

Han followed Luke into the ship just as he was popping a piece of bread into her laughing face. "I didn't tell anyone it's your honeymoon," Han scowled over at them, grabbing an insulated box of eggs. "You're taking this a bit too far, huh?"

"You're just jealous, pilot," Leia answered with smart humor. "Just you alone with the stars, with no one to feed you bread."

"I can feed myself just fine," Han answered with a roll of his eyes.

Chewie still had the shock collar he wore as a slave. He brought it from its storage place so Han could refit it.

"Why do you still have this?" Leia asked as he handed her the controls.

"I saved it in hopes someday I could wrap it around an Imperial's neck," Chewie told her.

Han came back to his seat with a tool, huffing a laugh while he carefully snipped a wire that broke the circuit carrying the electrical shock. "You still might get your chance. The lock's broken. We'll need to weld it closed once it's around your neck. Might singe your fur."

"It'll add to his story," Leia murmured, "like we mistreat him." She couldn't reach the top of Chewie's head, so she ruffled the fur on his arm in apology for even thinking such a thought.

She and Luke made their first appearance together as husband and wife in the dining establishment for the noon meal. "You look fetching, Wife," Luke told her.

She smiled in thanks, touching her hair self-consciously. "I worked harder on this than you two moon jockeys did," she told him. "Alderaanian women don't wear their hair long."

Luke put his nose to her hair. "What's in it? Reminds me of my aunt's fried grubers."

"You really know how to charm a girl," Leia smiled. "Have you tried that line on Talna? It's cooking oil. It made my hair darker and slicker." Her face took on a wistful expression. "It's not the first sacrifice I've made for the Alliance."

"You're not betraying Alderaan," Luke told her gently, sensing her inner conflict. "You're always Alderaanian; you just can't look it now." He pulled a seat out for her. As his wife with her hair arranged down, Leia's disguise was perfect. She fiddled with her hair so much now, ashamed to be wearing it, embarrassed to be seen like that, that even her character didn't seem like the Princess Leia the galaxy knew.

She placed her hand on his arm. "Thank you. Husband." She gave him a grateful smile.

Luke watched as the pink clouds moved over Ord Mantell. Down there looked so much better than up here... He looked at Leia sidelong, wondering if his fictional demanding wife should want to see the tourist trap. He figured his bratty fictional self would. The real Luke did, too.

Han ate at a separate table, glowering at Luke and Leia as they quietly sat together and sipped kaf. Chewie stood behind Leia with a lowered head.

"Why is he pretending to be so mad?" Leia wondered under her breath, her glance shifting from the pink clouds to the currently green eyes of Han.

Luke shrugged. "He's spread it around he doesn't like his employers much. Us. Plus he's doing all the work. He thinks I'm getting a vacation. He'd rather be the spoiled, married businessman."

Leia scoffed lightly. "Good thing he's not. He'd be off to the Sabacc tables."

"I think he'd like to be at this table," Luke said, "having kaf with you."

Leia rolled her eyes. "It's not a vacation for us, either."

His eyes smiled at her over his mug. "So it's work being married to me, huh?" He poured more kaf dotingly into Leia's mug and surveyed the room. "I can't identify half the beings in this room," he told Leia. "It's driving me crazy when I walk. I know that's a Whipid," his eyes were pointing at a furred, tusked being; "some lived in Mos Eisley."

"I'd stay away from him," Leia murmured quietly. "He looks like trouble."

"That one there's a Barabel."

"Stay away from that one, too."

"They all look like trouble," Luke said.

Leia smiled. "Or friendly, as our pilot would say."

"3PO says he doesn't know the definition of friendly. I've seen two fights so far. One in a spoke, I think it was about theft. And there were a bunch brawling outside a bay."

"Brawling? Actual brawling?"

"Yeah," Luke recollected it with a laugh. "Half a dozen at least. Humans and Twi'leks. My guess is one insulted the other."

"Who breaks things like that up here?" Leia shook her head, as if such behavior was mystifying.

"There's a security force. If you want to call it that. They stunned the Twi'leks. It's an odd place. Everyone is on edge."

"I told you I heard it was a rough place. Have you been challenged?"

"No. I decided to follow Han's advice and not carry a blaster. I figure no one knows what a light saber is. And as nasty as he makes my captain out to be I don't talk to anyone. I should be okay. I'm keeping an eye out. Are you armed?"

"I've got my slave," Leia murmured. "Watch out if anyone challenges him."

Luke grinned. "What's that one?"

"Don't point."

"Sorry." Luke dropped his hand. The being was large; not as big as Chewie but broader and taller than Han. His skin was smooth, hairless and white; even the scalp. Luke put him as a gambler. His clothing was a brushed fur, an elegant cut and a rich brown.

"That's a Bolturian, I think."

"Are you well traveled, Wife?" Luke asked, putting his fist in his cheek.

Leia smiled again. "Not really, Husband. My father worked on Coruscant and later I did, too... Imperial City is probably the most cosmopolitan place in the galaxy."

Luke nodded. "My uncle and aunt were married in Imperial City."

Leia nodded faintly and tucked some hair behind her ear. Luke had effectively ended the conversation. No matter what they talked about, eventually it all came back to the same place. The Death Star, and Alderaan.

They finished their meal in a guilty, worried silence. Han left before them, giving Luke a significant look. "Let's stroll the meal off, Wife" he said loudly so other tables could hear him. "Pilot tells me it's good to get around."

"Slave didn't eat," she reminded Luke quietly.

"Well, he wouldn't with us, would he. I'll order some to bring back to the ship. Maybe I should spread the rumor you're eating for two?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Pilot will love that," she said wryly.

Walking with Leia felt different than a patrol. Their pace was slower, relaxed. Chewie, in a pose of dejection following in their wake, moaned dolefully. Leia carried the controls because Luke couldn't bring himself to bark orders or treat the Wookiee harshly.

"I thought you told me you were in a play," Leia said, a little irritated that he was incapable of even pretending to keep up the appearance of their cover story. "It's not real. Chewie knows that. We have to put on an act."

"I said I was in a play. I didn't say I was good in it," Luke answered grumpily. "Anyway, you come by ordering beings around more naturally, Your Highness."

Leia tsked in annoyance. They came to a view port and paused to enjoy the wonderful view of the planet Ord Mantell.

Luke pressed his nose to the clear sheet of transparisteel. The sight of open space, the promise of what lay below the swirling clouds, made Luke feel like he was stuck in a rut. "Do you know, I've never _had_ a vacation," he realized.

"Oh?" Leia asked, coming to stand beside him, though not touching the port window. "What about when you were in school? Didn't you get breaks?"

"From school," Luke answered resentfully. "Not the farm. My uncle took one every ten days off. That's it. The only trips we made were to town."

"He was a very hard worker," Leia commented, looking a little guilty.

"You had vacations," Luke accused, reading her look correctly.

She looked down and pressed the shock collar button by accident. Chewie, who kept a keen eye on her, reacted, jerking and yowling in feigned pain. Her dark eyes darted to him, but she remembered her role in time. "I said ten paces behind, not eight," she snapped loudly.

Chewie gave a whimper and stepped backward.

She and Luke resumed their stroll. "Yes," she admitted. "We did. We had three family estates on Alderaan to visit. We'd spend the holidays at one, and the warm season at another. The third," her thumb rubbed the button to the controls guiltily, "we only visited occasionally."

"Three," Luke said. "I had a courtyard."

Leia smiled sympathetically. "And the Senate," she continued, as if she couldn't stop making Luke feel miserable, "took two days off every ten."

"Were you aware," Luke asked, "of your privilege? Of how different your life was? To even your fellow Alderaanians?"

Her brow creased. "Yes. Don't attack, Luke. I feel, even though I had more days off than you, that I worked very hard. Earnestly and honestly."

He waved his palm. "I know that. And I know you did. You have a better work ethic than I do." He laughed lightly. "Look at us. It's all here. We've got a princess, a hard-working farm boy, a Wookiee slave, and...what's Han? On vacation all the time?"

"He's not independently wealthy. He called himself a parasite, remember?" Leia said.

"Some would describe my uncle as working like a slave on his farm, but when you look behind us, at what Chewie's wearing, it's not that at all."

"Slaves don't work," Leia said. "They're forced."

"Forced," Luke repeated thoughtfully. They were passing in front of a docking bay now, the ship within dark and closed up. A Twi'lek passed them, walking with a Bolturian.

 _You must learn about the ways of the Force,_ Ben had said. The Force and forced. One described power and the other power over another. If a being had the Force, were they the one who influenced the actions of another, or was it they who were enacted upon?

He shivered suddenly, feeling like he had learned something about the Force that was slightly malevolent.

All this time he thought he was chasing the Force, but was it the other way around? Was the Force chasing him?

They bypassed the bay and were now upon another view port. "Do you think monarchies shouldn't exist?" Leia asked.

They were both looking out at space. It had a way of minimizing and enlarging. There was so much life out there, but from here, way up, it was so insignificant. Luke felt like he was on the brink of a realization; the vast expanse of life, and all the ways the little beings exerted their control. He shook his head balefully, feeling sad, and that everything was wasted time, even the Empire, even fighting the Empire, and to just let life go on by itself.

"I don't think I'm qualified to answer that question," he said with a rueful smile. "It seems..." He opened his mouth, thinking. "Leadership exists. Most places, there's some system in place for a leader. Wookiees have tribal elders, Alderaan had a monarchy. Corellia did too, right? Tatooine's got Jabba the Hutt."

Leia frowned. "He doesn't lead," she said.

"Well, not formally. He doesn't hold office or anything like that. But his influence is everywhere."

"That's too bad," she said quietly.

"Tatooine is younger than Alderaan," Luke reminded her. "At least in terms of settlement. Didn't you tell me there was centuries of war on your planet until Ba'hil the Brave?" He continued on after her nod, "so maybe Tatooine is in some evolutionary phase."

She met his eyes sadly and gestured out the window. "All this makes you feel like you can see all the answers, but that also tells you how little you know."

"Exactly," Luke nodded. "I don't think this inactivity is good for us." He took her elbow and led her on, towards a bay. "Come, Wife."

Leia chuckled. "We caught a vacation, and we want to throw it back."

"Huh?"

They sauntered their way back to the _Sun's Paradise_ , while Leia reminded Luke of Calvunca, and how if a Sheltiv came under a certain weight upon catching, it was thrown back in the ocean to grow another season.

Leia and Chewie went aboard so Chewie could help with some internal repairs and Luke decided to make another round of patrol.

His conversation with her stuck with him, about the differences in their lives. The _Falcon_ was just a ship. Han was just a smuggler and Luke was just a farm boy. But Leia was a princess; Leia, in his mind, _was_ the Rebellion.

He made one round of the Wheel, barely taking note of the almost-riot outside the casino, something about cheating, and detoured back to bay three.

Han was under the ship feeding the endless stream of wires onto a hooked snake. He was watching as the wires slid into the ship with a quiet hiss.

"Han," Luke called. "Got a second?"

Han looked around. "Maybe. Empire here?"

Luke grunted. "Not yet." It was funny, and yet it wasn't funny. Maybe later, say in another two years, he'd be able to laugh about it. Assuming they all survived.

"Then I do. What's up?"

"I've been thinking about that. When the Empire comes."

"Who hasn't?"

"That's just it. Look, there's four of us. Me, you, Chewie, and Leia."

"Droid's a score for them, too."

"Five, then. And, well. I know what it means for us, if they get us. I even understand it, you know? But.."

"But what?"

Luke pressed his lips together, a sign of his conviction. "They can't get Leia."

Han sighed. "They get you they are most likely getting Leia too."

"That's just it. I want you, with me, and I know Chewie will agree, to do everything we can to make sure she gets away. No matter what else. It has to be Leia."

Han's eyes checked on the progress of the wires. He was nodding softly, as if to himself.

"Promise me, Han."

"I don't need to promise you, kid. It goes without saying."

"I want you to promise anyway."

"Promises are stupid. But I agree with you. If anyone gets away, it's Leia. She's got a speech all written out, and I don't."

Luke shook his head. He was a little confused, but satisfied. He couldn't do what Han did. Luke took everything far too seriously. It wasn't that Han didn't; it was just how he tossed in lightness so that he hid what he did find serious. "Alright then," Luke said, deciding the matter was concluded. "Good. I'll go finish my patrol."

Another day passed, and no one challenged them. Han had replaced the gravity modulators and was working on dismantling the turret. Occupancy on the Wheel turned over and Luke had a new batch of ships and beings to keep track of.

He found he was becoming jumpy. The pressure seemed to be getting to them all. It really was just a matter of time before the Empire arrived, and Luke didn't understand why they weren't here already. He wanted to scream out into space, "where are you?"

"They plan on taking us quietly," Leia told him after he admitted his worry.

"I told you," Han, who had been listening, interrupted. "The Wheel doesn't cooperate with the Empire."

"Then they are going arrive not-as-the-Empire," Leia said.

"How's that?" Luke wondered.

"They might send an agent to represent them on their behalf."

"You mean like a bounty hunter?" he sat up straight, looking at Han.

Han waved it away. "That'd be new."

Luke constantly patrolled, driving himself to distraction. If he saw one Twi'lek at bay five and then another later at bay thirteen, he would race back to five, to see if the other was still there.

"You need to learn the Wheel," he advised Leia. "Learn where the shuttles leave, which spoke takes you closest to the _Falcon_ _._ Take Chewie and make your exit plan."

When she was off walking, Luke hurried to Han for a concerned conversation.

"It's been two days," he muttered.

"They're not here now. Relax."

"How can you? Do you have any idea how it'll go down? Based on your Imperial experience?"

"Kid, I was a Tie pilot," Han reminded a little impatiently. "I was not dispatched to pick up a couple of traitors."

"Oh."

"But," Han could breezily answer the question anyway. "Her Know-it-allness is probably right. Doesn't seem like they're coming directly."

"You mean what she said about an agent? A bounty hunter?"

Han nodded. "We'll be transported. At least not executed on the spot. That's something, right?"

Luke agreed half-heartedly.

"And it might just work to our advantage if it's a bounty hunter."

"How so?"

"They aren't as strict in their philosophy. To them, we're not traitors or prisoners of war; we're credits."

"We can buy them off?"

"If we had enough. It'll buy us some time, anyway. And that always changes the odds."

Little cracks began to appear in the thin veneer of the careful presentation Han developed for them all. Leia decided she should help out with patrols. The Wheel, she informed Luke, was too big for him to monitor at once. It didn't help his anxiety. What if she was the one who encountered the arresting party on her patrol?'And they would all be separated.

It did help to have an extra set of eyes and ears, though, he knew that. To appease himself he made sure they all carried a comm unit and had a small blaster tucked somewhere hidden on their person.

He fretted. Even though he gave her the spokes territory to cover, he would detour from the large wheel to check on her.

Leia didn't just patrol; she wouldn't let the charade drop; not even for a second. She took Chewie with her as her slave, leaving Han only C-3PO as his assistant. And she terrorized the businesses as the customer from hell. Whether she was really keeping an eye on the other customers, Luke didn't know. She made no purchases but touched and criticized everything, telling shop owners she could do better when her husband brought her to Ord Mantell City.

He saw what she was doing. This was her job; she was undercover as spoiled matron. This was the only way she could fight the war right now. There were no speeches to write, no missions to plan, no meetings to attend. She always did her job well, and she threw herself into her role, as if nothing else mattered.

Han was not completely unaffected, either. He called Luke in by shouting "Cap'n!" as Luke walked by.

"What is it, Pilot?" Luke, remembering his cover, said coldly.

"Got something to show you inside," Han said. "Where's your wife?"

"Shopping," Luke said dryly.

Han took him to the cockpit.

"You need to learn how to handle her," he said, with the sad air of one who was at a funeral.

"She's your ship, Han. I don't-"

"Just in case."

"You're flying her out, Han. I-"

"Kid, you wanted this. Leia's the one that gets away. No matter what. Remember?"

Unhappily, Luke nodded. "I don't want this. I don't want to learn like this."

"Too bad. Now, look over the console. The radio's here. Just take her down to Ord Mantell; that should be a good enough place she can run out and hide somewhere safe and get back on her own. You, too."

Luke scanned all the indicators on the console. Life support, compensator, generator, generator, hyperdrive, generator... _damn, Han..._ transponder, beacons, radio, cannon..

"Weapons are here," Han pointed. "She's a two man crew usually, but if you have to you can do it alone. Just can't sit."

"What about Leia?" Luke asked. "She should get the training too, since we're making sure she'll definitely be on board."

Han nodded. "Chewie's gonna show her tonight. It's the 'how to fly' lesson in Shyriiwook. I haven't said anything to her, have you?"

"No," Luke shook his head definitively. "She wouldn't hear of it."

"No," Han agreed.

They shut the ship up tight that night, and closed the doors that fed off into the Wheel's pedestrian corridor. Chewie stayed in the cockpit on watch with C-3PO, monitoring activity in the ship's security feed.

Leia stayed in her cabin, Luke hoped with a blaster pointing at the door. He went out for a patrol. Han was not in the bay. Luke tried to reach him on the comm but got C-3PO instead.

"Why are you answering his comm?" he asked.

"I monitor it for him while he works on the ship, Master Luke," the droid explained.

"Well, he's not working on it right now. Where is he?"

"I'm afraid I do not know, sir. Perhaps like you he is getting some fresh air."

"Right," Luke answered sourly. He walked, but did not bump into Han anywhere. He hovered outside the casino. He thought of barging in as the irate captain; dragging his pilot back. But that wasn't his strength, and he knew it. That would create a scene when he knew the trick was not to let himself be challenged. He was older now; a bit wiser. Not at all like the farm boy that sat at the bar in the Mos Eisley cantina and let himself be tossed across the room by some thug proud of his death mark. He'd learned how to be invisible, act detached. "Friendly," as Han had reminded him.

He walked back, grumpy and distracted, cursing Han under his breath for being so indulgent as to visit the cantina. If Han cheated and got that Whipid furious… He headed back to the ship.

Han straggled back hours later, smelling of smoke and a mixture of body odors and ale. Luke waited for him in the cockpit with Chewie. "You went to the casino," Luke confronted him.

"Maybe I did," Han shrugged. "A pilot on the Wheel would."

"This is not a vacation," Luke said.

"I'm working," Han's tone was dark, offended.

"I hope he knows what he's doing," Luke mentioned to Chewie when Han drifted off to bed, still unconcerned.

Chewie nodded. "He does. A card table is just a good a place to get information as a sleeper cell."

"So he's doing this for us? Not for Jabba?"

"A bit of both, probably."

"Is he winning?"

"Skywalker," Chewie leaned forward and set earnest blue eyes into Luke's face. "Jabba is not going to go away, even if you win this war today."

"Yeah, but gambling seems like a really unreliable way to prepare. I know he's a good player and all... But it's gambling. It's chance. Totally out of his control."

Chewie smiled. "He didn't have an uncle telling him to conserve water when he was a boy. Understand?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He had a dream that night.

He was back on Tatooine, wearing his flight suit. Leia was there, in her Senate robes. Mon Mothma, Emperor Palpatine, Han and Chewie, and Biggs.

Biggs was a bounty hunter. They were all there, on sort of a scavenger hunt, to locate the plans to the Death Star. Leia was competitive, but the Emperor somehow got a head start. Luke knew the plans were at Ben's house, but it was cheating to know, so he pretended to race with everyone, only he didn't.

He didn't win in the dream. He couldn't remember if there was a winner; he kept rotating the cast of characters with him, and it got all disjointed. When he was with Biggs they were racing through the canyons, off course; Leia sat in his kitchen with him, drinking blue milk, Han went to the cantina, saying he would wait until everyone got back.

It hadn't felt like a Force dream. He hoped it wasn't prophetical. It couldn't be; it was just symbolic of Luke's growing disquiet.

All the players were here at the Wheel. The Empire, soon. Leia, and the Alliance. Jabba, who never did anything on his own but offered a bounty.

He'd risen early, thought he may as well get a patrol in. Han, up even earlier or maybe not to bed at all after a night at the casino, and C-3PO were on the hull, putting the finishing touches on the panel and seal that used to be the gun turret's view port. Luke chuckled. The droid was holding a fuser.

"Hold it still," Han said sternly.

"I am, pilot Han, but it is most dif-"

"Then hold it stiller."

Luke climbed the ladder. "How'd you get him up here?"

Han glared at Luke, irritated for the interruption. "There's cranes you can use."

"Almost done, huh?"

"Yeah,"Han sighed, wiping his hand. "The essentials. I can finish the rest when we get back. I'll be putting in for clearance."

"Great," Luke said, meaning it. "See you later, then."

Bolturian, Luke noted. Twi'lek, Whipid. And that, he'd learned was Mirialan. Everyone busy, something to do. Humans by the view port. Like him, staring out at space. He felt a load had been lifted. Just a few more hours with Wife, and then everything would go back to normal.

He closed the bay door behind him. 3PO was on the ground inside, and Leia was at the technical station, watching over the bay from the ship's security system. "Took me forty-five minutes," Luke, feeling chatty, told the droid.

"A most excellent performance, Master Luke," C-3PO congratulated.

"I don't think that's the point," Leia said wryly.

"And you know, I think I've lost weight. All this walking."

"An unfortunate side effect, sir."

"Again, I don't think that's the point." This time, she sounded like she was correcting him. She no longer called him Husband.

"Fourteen species," Luke announced, grabbing some shipboard kaf.

"Your mind is a steel trap," Chewie chortled. "Did you count me?"

Luke stopped his mug from reaching his lips. "I don't think so. Fifteen." Curiously, he watched the security footage. Tiny blue holo projections, beings promenading. "Did you see me on there?"

Leia sighed, as if his chattiness was something she had to tolerate in the mornings. She nodded. "Yes."

"Where's Han?"

Her brows and shoulders lifted. "Not in the bay. He didn't tell us he was going."

"Probably the office. We're leaving, you know."

"Yes." Shoulders still tense. "Thank the Force."

"I won't get my trip dirtside."


	21. Shut Down

It happened so fast.

Fragments of information came at him. The blur of russet fur grabbing him -

 _Chewie-_

The smell of kaf spilled over his sleeve and pants, the darkness of the smuggling compartment as Chewie closed the lid.

Leia's eyes in the darkness. His mind stupidly insisting on details. The light of her brown eyes. Her light. Her life.

Sound, absorbing him. Growls, grunts, Leia's breath, vibrations of the ship's engines.

They were taking off.

Voices, the smell of kaf; he was still holding the mug.

A klaxon blaring, signaling the change in atmospheric conditions of the bay. The hangar doors were opening, a sense of movement.

So fast, that understanding came too late.

Kaf, breath, movement. Hours ago it seemed, but he remembered it was dark, so Leia must have said after Chewie threw them in the smuggling hold and closed the lid, "they're here."

Vibrations, like a plucked string, sound waves, momentum suspended.

Sound, and silence too. Noises that should be there weren't. The droid. The Wookiee. What was happening?

Leia was with him. In the dark, under the floor. Stunned, it came to him now, along the sound waves of vibrations, he found sense in the growls that was the speech of a Wookiee.

"It's only a bounty for him."

The suspense would kill him. The lack of air. How long were they down here? He could _feel_ Leia, though he couldn't see her; she was more than a presence, warmth sharing space. She was tension and determination and worry and -

-thoughts going every which way, like their breath. _Han._

Only a bounty. Did that mean-

Would he-

Was there a plan?

" _Promise me, Han."_

" _Promises are stupid. But I agree with you. If anyone gets away, it's Leia."_

And Luke, apparently, too. Luke realized his mistake. That's what came to him, in the darkness and the smell of kaf and his damp sleeve and the silence of C-3PO. He had made a mistake. Maybe they were getting away, but it didn't feel like that. Something felt terribly wrong. He had no idea what. But he knew he had split them up. He changed the dynamic of their group from four to three and one, and that was wrong.

Steps. Foot steps. Going aft, fore, stopping. How many? Someone stood on the lid of the compartment.

"….Anobis."

Luke and Leia's faces turned toward each other in the dark.

"So you're smart." Han's voice; normal, perhaps a bit resentful.

Vibrations continuing. Who was piloting? Luke set the mug on the floor.

His mind was starting to catch up. _They're here_ , Leia had said.

"...to the _Executor._ "

A low whistle from Han, for Luke's benefit he knew, making him painfully grateful that Han thought to carry on a secret conversation. "Vader's flagship."

How many, Luke wondered. Waiting. Breathing air, which would soon run out. Listening for a sign. _Tell me,_ Han. What had Han told the strange voice about Luke and Leia? That they left the Wheel? Is that how they came to take off? Of course it wouldn't work. Han was just buying time.

"It's a death mark now."

A gasp from Leia. _Just a bounty._

"...pay myself if I wasn't so sure you'd sell them after you killed me."

Sharp; less composed. "You have that much?" Ah, Luke thought. Greed.

Leia grabbed his sleeve. "Are you armed?" he breathed more than whispered into her hair. She shook her head. _No._

"Are you looking forward to the end of the war?"

"What are you talking about, Solo?"

"That's what'll happen if you sell those two. I was kinda hoping they'd win."

Again, secret words, directed to them. Leia's determination, a smile she would smile after, but only after, when she knew they were still four. Luke wracked his brains. He lifted his arms to touch the lid.

Han hadn't known. _Chewie._ It wasn't just a bounty. A death mark. Returned to the Hutt a corpse. A death mark with a life debt.

"I'm a careful man, Solo."

Luke groaned inwardly. Of course, a man. The Empire, notoriously pro-human, anti-alien in policy, would send a human. Luke swore at himself. The humans by the view port. All the other life forms had caught his attention, whether they ate or cheated or brawled. But humans were always gathered at the view port.

Sounds, new ones, old ones gone. Fire, a strangled cry, the strange voice, clear as day: "It was the Wookiee that was a threat."

Next to him, Leia gagged.

Vibrations silenced, engines cut off, the ship jerking, as if surprised. And sounds came to Luke out of order, backwards; what should have been important last because he didn't want to hear it. Struggles, blaster fire, the thud of something heavy, more blaster fire, shouting. Luke and Leia rolling like play toys to the side wall, his kaf mug rolling to his side, a nudging reminder.

 _We're crashing._

The ship plummeted. Luke shielded Leia with his body, her head, his head; the air outside hummed. He tucked around her, slamming headfirst into the side wall, and Luke couldn't stand, couldn't lift the lid, couldn't stop Han from becoming a corpse.

Thrown in the air, unexpectedly soon, their bodies slammed down. He had knocked the wind out of Leia, he could tell. He hoped she wasn't more hurt.

Luke remained huddled over Leia a long moment, allowing sense to return. The darkness, the smell of kaf, the warmth of her body, the taste of blood in his mouth, not quite silence. Creaking, hissing. No engines, no voices. His knee on the hard floor, the ache of the mug where it hit his head. But he thought he could stand.

Shakily, he rose to as high as the ceiling panel would let him and lifted it a crack. Light, just a crack, flooded in the compartment, and he found Leia's form on the floor, shards of the broken kaf mug surrounding her. She stirred, her hair half undone, eyes glued to the shaft of light, listening.

He lifted it higher, on the pads of his finger tips, and his head grazed floor level. Russet fur, motionless now, on the floor. Leia at full height, still not tall enough to clear the compartment, eyes large. She reached for his belt and unhitched his lightsaber, held it out for him. He nodded, and as quiet as he could, dared to slide the panel over to the floor. Then he took his lightsaber from her.

No one. But sound again – the engines were sputtering. He gave Leia a boost and she climbed out and he tried to follow quickly, but he needed two tries before he finally won in hoisting himself up.

Everyone was on the floor. Everyone. Chewie. Han. C-3PO, with his photo receptors darkened. A stranger. No one was moving.

Luke went to the stranger, whose neck was at an odd angle. He bent, took the man's blaster from his hand and handed it to Leia. Han's blaster was hooked inside a loop of the man's pants and he took that too.

The engines sputtered. Leia dashed away.

He stepped over Chewie, swallowing, and followed Leia to the cockpit.

Two more men sat in Han's seat, and Chewie's – Luke felt a tremendous rage. Dressed in black, he could tell they knew ships, and yet they were cursing the ship, one wiping blood off his forehead and the other folded ever a broken arm, and Leia shot them.

Luke dragged them from the seats, furious.

"Imperial pilots," Leia said. "They waited until we had the ship ready. Han had the ship ready," she corrected herself dully. Because yes, especially now, it had to be said, and it was Han that made all the repairs, while Luke and Leia ate and strolled and pretended to shop. It was Han that had done the work and he was back there motionless on the floor. They shared an apprehensive look and headed back for the access corridor.

The strange man was not in uniform. A hunter, Luke realized. Evidently he had alerted the Empire and would accompany so far with Luke and Leia to the transfer point to receive his payment, then proceed on with Han and Chewie to Tatooine and Jabba the Hutt.

And the man had shot the access corridor up to hells. That must have been the extent of his reaction to crashing, Luke thought. As if shooting at the ship would stop it from crashing. Not a very bright man. But careful, he conceded. He'd grant him that. Han had met – three others? that Luke knew about. And none had gotten this far.

For some reason he kept seeing his aunt and uncle. Their bodies, or what was left of them, bones- skeletons really; burnt and blackened and charred, on the ground. In flesh, in life, they had fallen- there; just gotten out of the house. Was that their goal? To just get far enough to not die in the burning house? To ask the desert for help? With their clothes afire, consumed by flame and fire and burning?

A light was blinking at the tech station. Luke fell to his knees and vomited in horror and relief. He heard Chewie groan.

Leia was by Chewie's side. She already had a medpack. Luke hadn't seen her run to get one. She looked at him in concern. "Are you injured?" she croaked out. Her voice sounded funny. Not at all the clear, crisp tones he was used to hearing.

He wanted to cry. When she had a medpack already, and they were all on the floor, and the hunter's neck was not normal. He couldn't go to Han. Couldn't.

"Chewie's been shot," Leia announced quietly. "But he's alive. Can you help me-?"

"Leia," he gasped out. "I'm sorry."

She thought he meant Han and her eyes widened in terror.

"No," he corrected, and forced himself over to Han. If he was dead, he thought, trying to brace himself, then it was quiet and quick, and not wanted but expected. A smuggler's life. "Should I move him?"

"No. Wait for the med scan."

Han was lying mostly underneath the tech station, mostly on his stomach. His left arm was sprawled completely straight and there was blood on the floor under his face and hair.

Luke watched a drop of blood fill with air and bubble. "He's breathing."

He crawled out from under the tech station and read the blinking light. 'SOR' it read. System Override. "He crashed the ship," Luke realized. "He took control from the cockpit and he shut the engines down."

He dropped to Leia's side and coughed, tasting blood again.

"As soon as I tend to them," she said, meaning _I will get to you._

She was such a princess, through and through. Luke couldn't stand it.

He looked at Leia guiltily. She had no idea, of course. She would be so angry with Luke, that he even thought her life was worth so much more than his own. But it was. He'd realized it when he first viewed her hologram message. Who was he, to be wandering the sands of Tatooine, wrapped up in himself, when she was fighting for the freedom of everyone? Yes, he'd joined the Rebellion, yes he was Red Five. But it was all because of her. He owed her everything.

It was what Luke had asked of Chewie and Han. His mistake. When the time comes, whether it comes in the form of bounty hunter or Empire, Luke had pressed, everyone do what they can to ensure Leia gets away. Their plan was only sketchy. Basically, all they could vocalize with Leia around all the time was that they would react as they saw fit when they needed to, when they needed to. Move, from four to three and one. Or two and two.

Beru had intuited it. Leia's life was not her own. It was everyone's life that was worth more than hers. It was the reason she was in the Rebellion, and the reason - to Luke anyway, she _was_ the Rebellion.

She was a princess, but without her people she was nothing. And right now her people were Luke, Chewie and Han. She would not want to lose them. A princess with no sense of self would never want to be on her own.

Chewie's wound was high in the chest. The russet fur was red. But he was stirring. "Princess," he said.

"Shh," she soothed.

"You are away?"

"We all are." Her eyes lifted to Han briefly.

"We meant you should get away. What did he do?" Chewie asked.

"Shh, Chewie."

Chewie struggled to rise. "What did he do?" He took Leia's hand away from his chest. "A Wookiee's vital parts are here," he indicated his abdomen. "This is no death blow," he reassured her with a pained grunt. "Where is Skywalker?"

"I'm here, Chewie. He hit the system override and crashed the ship."

"We're all banged up a bit," Leia told him.

Luke got up and hobbled back to the cockpit. The Imperial pilots cluttered the floor and he grabbed the navigator's seat, trying to maintain his balance.

He saw water and rocks. He blinked a moment, forgetting they had left the Wheel. Water heaved and rolled and he turned back again to vomit on the body of the Imperial. He sank into Han's chair, panting, looking out.

The ship lay- was it correct to say on the water? Buoyed by land underneath it. Freighters didn't float and they had crashed. Or dropped really, from the sky. The ship's land orientation was correct. He initiated the preflight sequence and the engine's sputtered. The _Falcon_ made the same noise for the Imperials, and Luke felt his anger rise again.

He went back to the access corridor. Chewie was on his back now. For some reason he held an arm straight up to the ceiling.

"Chewie," Luke began, trying to find words. If he turned 3PO on maybe he'd talk for him. But then the droid didn't read minds. "We're upright, in shallow water. The engines are wet."

"Lift her aft," Chewie said. His eyes were closed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. I will help you." But he made no move.

"It's not urgent."

"Emergency Flight Response," Chewie said, but did not elaborate.

"An investigative squad is probably on the way," Leia said, offering an intuitive translation. "And if the Empire's made aware..."

"Right," Luke said. He finally saw where Leia's voice came. She was huddled under the tech station, holding the medscan with one hand while the other moved hair off Han's forehead. "OK." He made no move to turn just yet. "How's Han?"

"Hit his head on the station, I think. And there's a couple of superficial blaster wounds."

"The hunter was probably trying to kill him and missed 'cause he got thrown about in the crash."

"Han probably managed to hold on to the seat for a while. But I can't wake him up."

Luke felt nauseous again and the room seemed to shrink, colored in black around the edges. _The Empire,_ he remembered. He lurched back to the cockpit and sank in the seat and then didn't move for long moments.

Dimly, he imagined C-3PO's voice. "Why that beast of a Wookiee would-" and then it was silent again.

He spoke aloud to the _Falcon._ "We need to leave." He waved his hand over the console. "If you could just show me..." The console remained dark. There was a beeping, though, something rhythmic, and it reminded him of the blinking light on the tech station.

At the same time, Chewie did his best to yell to him. "The override, Skywalker."

Luke heard, "Certainly, Mistress Leia," and the board lit up.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Luke?" Leia called.

"Aft," Luke did as he had been instructed. "And give a diagnostic," he added, thinking it wouldn't hurt to see if the _Falcon_ had been injured just like the rest of them.

"Master Luke," C-3PO entered, dragging Chewie by the heels. "First Mate Chewbacca says I have brought you a copilot."

Luke turned, and laughed so weakly it made his head hurt. Chewie was still on his back on the floor, his fist raised to the ceiling.

"Between the two of you, you should be able to lift me," Chewie said.

Luke chuckled some more, and got out of his seat. C-3PO started asking questions, none of which Luke could answer. "I don't know, 3-PO. We were all shut down for a time, I think." He let C-3PO handle most of the load, dizziness overtaking him again, but Chewie was soon in his seat.

Chewie moved a finger up and down. "Radio. Better hail the port. Tell them we won't be needing their services."

"Perhaps we should take advantage of their services," 3PO suggested. "After all, there are injured-"

"Not now, 3PO," Luke said tiredly. "I tell you what, drag these bodies and the other dead one to the air lock."

"Sir-"

"Please."

Chewie revved the engines. "They'll dry fast. According to this," he indicated the report Luke had asked for, "we were in atmosphere when he dropped her. Not far from the surface. Lost some sensors. The other turret is crumpled."

"Where are we?"

"Ord Mantell."

 _Of course_ , Luke thought.

"You got your trip dirtside."

"Not how I imagined it, Chewie," Luke retorted. "You're feeling better."

Chewie grinned faintly. "I would be shouting to the sun in happiness if I had the strength. The Princess is safe."

Luke's lips moved to agree but no sound came out. He was looking for the sun Chewie would shout to. The pink clouds were still pink from the planet's view.

"Go back. Have the Princess scan you. You don't look good."

"I don't? I was hiding in the compartment."

It was easier to walk when the bodies were out of the way. And, Luke was pleased to note, Han was now seated in the tech station chair, his head resting on his forearms. Leia stood next to him, her hair still half undone, arms crossed against her chest, scowling.

"You're alive," Luke said, and Leia stopped scowling. "That makes four of us."

Han slowly raised his head and looked at Luke with one eye. "You look about as lively as I feel."

"Let me check you," Leia grabbed the medscan and indicated for Luke to sit at the lounge.

"You almost killed us," Luke told Han.

"Almost is better than completely," Han said.

Leia was frowning at Luke. "You have a head injury too, and two fractured ribs."

"I think the kaf mug tried to kill me. You're not hurt?"

"Other than you squashing me and acting as my pillow, no. I'm going to help Chewie fly the ship."

Han sighed heavily and Luke lay his head back. "Ord Mantell has pretty pink clouds," he said to the ceiling, which had several new scorch holes.

Han muttered an answer into his arm but Luke didn't understand it.

They started to rise again. Han turned his head to the side so just one cheek lay on his arm. "Goldenrod. Tell Chewie two short jumps. Need to do a tracker scan."

"Yes, Captain Solo."

"He's strangely obedient," Luke observed.

"It hasn't been a good day," Han mumbled into his arm, "but I suppose that's a bright spot."

Luke had a very dim idea of what must have transpired. It must be very similar to how a droid feels when its powered back up after a shut down. Events, conversations, interactions, all continue without a droid's observation, and it's left feeling incomplete when the human deigns to restore power. Maybe that's why 3PO was behaving the way he was. His humans had been shut down, and he would assist them to fill in the pieces of life they were missing.

He went back in his head, at the foot steps he'd tried to count. There were three of them, not counting if he heard Han's or Chewie's. They could be missing much more than pieces of life, Luke thought. They were very lucky.

He had half a mind to watch the lift off, wanting to view the clouds one last time, but he was comfortable on the bench and couldn't make himself move.

When the ship finally made hyperspace, Han sighed again. "Well, he said exhaustedly, "I think this calls for a round of pain pills, don't you?"


	22. Aftershocks

Leia vetoed Han, who wanted to check for trackers after a short jump. She researched through his star charts and found coordinates for a way station that was several hours' journey.

"You all need to rest," she told Luke and Han, "We can get to work then."

"Should I call you Captain?" Han asked from his position on the floor. He'd gotten up once and after moving from the medbay to fetch pain pills for all and had almost made it to the lounge table.

Luke, who had watched him slink downward against the wall, thought he managed to make it look deliberate, like he wanted to stare up at the ceiling. His hands were clasped over his belly and his ankles crossed. Luke had lain like that on the sand as a youth, watching for rare clouds.

"If I can call you Princess," she responded, a tolerant smile playing over her lips.

Luke went back to a bunk and slept fitfully. He dreamed of Ord Mantell, his lightsaber slicing through pink atmospheric clouds. Upon waking, he lay for a long moment, thinking. He'd been so useless, he thought. Through all of it. He remembered Leia unhitching his lightsaber from his belt and handing it to him, but he never activated it.

His fingers touched his belt lightly. It was empty. The familiar weight of the hilt, deceptively innocent-looking, was absent. He sat up slowly, but his headache had dulled and his side didn't bother him. Where had he put his lightsaber? What good was the hilt without the blade?

 _Ben,_ he thought. Where was the Force in all this? Why hadn't he an inkling, a sense of danger? Why hadn't it participated?

He went into the 'fresher and admired his blooming black eye and a cut on his lip in the reflector.

Leia had draped a blanket over Han, who still lay on the floor. Chewie, asleep in the over-sized copilot's chair, had balled up his blanket and hugged it to his chest. Leia sat in Han's seat, her eyes moving in orderly rows over the indicator lights.

"I can watch," Luke offered. "If you want to go back for a bit."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Are you feeling- how are you feeling?"

Yes, Luke thought, agreeing with how she rephrased the question. There was no feeling better, really, about all this. He gave her a weak smile. "I'm functioning."

"3PO tells me he's at eighty-eight percent. I shut him down. He was terribly upset the sockets of his digits and wrist are bent from the crash."

"I'll see to him later," Luke told her. "How's she running?" he jerked his chin toward the console.

"Well," Leia sighed. "There's no flashing, or ominous beeping. So I guess normal? But I don't remember what normal sounds like, to be honest."

Again, he silently agreed with her, the underlying meaning of her words. There could be no normal again. He put his chin to his chest, listening. Every once in a while- he couldn't tell if it came in regular intervals- there was a surge, or maybe it was a drop, in power; he couldn't be sure and he had no idea what it could mean. "How soon do we land?"

"Thirty-two clicks," her answer came swiftly. "We'll need to wake them soon." Her eyes moved to Chewie. The Wookiee stirred; whether he subconsciously knew they were talking about him, felt Leia's eyes on him, or the pain pill was starting to wear off, Luke didn't know, but he squeezed the ball of blanket tighter and made a noise. A content one, Luke interpreted.

"He's got a cub," Luke said softly. He meant, in just a few words _the Empire came, Chewie got shot, we almost lost some dear friends._

"Yes," Leia agreed.

"I wonder how old he is?"

"Still young, I believe."

"He could be a hundred," Luke said. "Chewie's over two hundred. I wonder what age Wookiees start breeding?"

Leia was rubbing the fur on Chewie's arm. "I don't know."

"And how long is a cub dependent on its mother?"

Leia shook her head, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. "I don't know, Luke."

"Do you think Han meant to crash us?" It had been on Luke's mind.

"Obviously. He hit the override."

"Right. I meant, do you think he meant to kill us? That he'd rather us die in a crash than at the hands of the Empire?"

"Maybe." Leia was quiet a moment. "I can see him feeling that way." She sounded troubled. "He had no right, to do that to us, have Chewie hide us in the smuggling hold. Who does he think he is, judging our lives as more important than his?"

"Um," Luke squirmed. He didn't tell her it had been his idea. But he understood what she meant now. He'd always known she would be angry and reject his plan if she knew about it, but he only figured she was wrong, and that was that. But Han had evidently lumped Luke into the Leia-gets-away plan, and Luke was hugely offended. "General Dodonna will probably think he did it deliberately, that he sold us out."

Leia scoffed. "That doesn't make sense at all. There was a hunter aboard, too."

"Yeah, I know. He'll say it was part of a clever ruse."

"He'll have a tough time convincing me," Leia said firmly.

"Me, too."

"It could have gone down so differently." There was regret in Leia's voice. "If Chewie had time to get his bow caster instead of worrying about us. If we were armed."

"I had my lightsaber," Luke said miserably.

Leia's eyes left the console to look at Luke sharply.

"I'm having a crisis of faith," Luke confessed grandly.

Leia smiled gently. "Maybe you didn't need it."

"But I had it. And I didn't... and I missed those humans, on the Wheel."

"We all did. We all walked by them every single time we left the bay."

"But I should have known." He knew he was stubbornly refusing to let Leia comfort him. "I should have been better. I've had so many moments, since...on Vrakith IV, and my kitchen..."

Leia stood, placing her hand on Luke's forehead. "You've had a shock," she said gently. "No more. Go wake Han."

He sighed morosely, quirks of destiny playing through his mind. What if it had gone down differently? What if her mission hadn't failed, and she'd been able to bring Ben Kenobi to Alderaan instead of sending a hologram message? Ben might still be alive, Alderaan might still be whole. Would Ben be teaching her the ways of the Force?

He peered intently into her face, and felt the connection that could never separate him from her, but there was only concern in her eyes. Did she ever wonder the same?

But truly, she was so much more than he. It didn't help that Chewie's first words to her when he regained consciousness as she tended to his blaster wound were _we always meant you should get away_. It didn't help that two years ago she began to study Shyriiwook and understood the Wookiee. Leia was doing the flying, just as it was she who applied synflesh to Han's forehead and bacta bandages to Chewie's chest and checked the size of Luke's pupils at the behest of the medscanner. It was Leia who found the coordinates to a way station they could fly to and make a check for tracking devices.

He felt a little sick. That she knew how to follow the prompts of a medscanner, that she could read a navigational chart, that she understood Shyriiwook. Did all those accomplishments lead up to this moment? Did he see her destiny so much clearer than his own?

She shut down his thoughts. "Luke," she prompted again. "Check on Han."

He nodded obediently. He couldn't change what happened here any more than he could what happened on Tatooine. It was done.

Han hadn't moved much at all, except to hold his left arm across his middle. Pain pills were definitely wearing off, Luke thought. He shook his friend's wrist.

"Han," he prodded. "Wake up." It took a few tries. When his eyes were more focused he helped pull Han to a sitting position. "We're ready to land."

"Am I late?" Han asked, and Luke smiled gently, wondering what the Corellian had been dreaming about. "What season is it?"

Lukes brows went up. "Season?" he echoed bemusedly. Was he thinking of Hoth? Mating time on Bug Base? The Harvest? Had he been a farmer too? "We're on the _Falcon_. First jump. Time to check for tracking devices."

Han crawled over to the lounge table and pulled himself to his knees, running a hand through his hair, touching his forehead gingerly. "They came?"

"Right. Remember?"

"Yeah." He pressed his skull with both hands. "I crashed the ship."

"You did." Again, Luke saw what an extreme move it was. Han's pride and joy, and he was willing to let her go. "You couldn't know how she'd land," he scolded lightly. "Leia's been monitoring the systems."

"Is she okay?" Han blinked at Luke.

"Who? Leia or the ship?"

Han blinked some more. "Something wrong with Leia?"

Luke allowed a small smile. "She's fine. We're landing at a way station."

Han got to his feet, holding on to the table and swaying slightly.

"Did you mean to?"

"'Course I meant to," Han growled, growing irritated by pain.

"I don't know what you could have been thinking," Luke persisted.

"Who said I was thinking?"

"I'll chalk the crash up to you being crazy and desperate, then, and stupid," Luke decided.

"Or brilliant," Han gave him a wan smile, still smug and wry but awfully pale.

Luke clapped him on the shoulder and gave a gentle shove toward the cockpit. "Brilliance involves thinking. But I see you'll be fine."

Leia was checking Chewie's bacta bandages as they entered. She scanned her eyes over Han with liberty, something she'd never been able to do before. The outset of their relationship had too many external distractions: the Empire's various methods of trying to kill them. "Are you able to fly?"

"In my sleep. S'nothing." She let him have his seat and he squinted his eyes out the viewport. "Hmm. Where are we going, now?"

Chewie pointed out the view port. "There. That big thing there."

"Oh," Han grinned, like old, "I see it. Don't worry. Like flying hungover." He made to turn his palm over but stopped. "Except I can't lift my hand."

"Stop teasing," Leia snapped.

Luke looked at her, his lips pressed together. He didn't think Han was teasing.

But within a few minutes they were landed and Han and Chewie were frowning in private conversation about counterbalances being off and incomplete revolutions.

"Too bad there's no pain pills for ships," Luke said under his breath.

Han patted his seat arm. "She's alright." He was reading the diagnostics Luke had printed out earlier. "Chewie, you and Luke check on these, make sure none are going to rear their ugly heads later."

"Chewie's had a serious injury -" Leia began.

Han shook his head at Leia and immediately regretted it. "Wookiees don't stop," he told her. "Me and you will go up top, do a scan."

"How long can we stay here?" Leia asked nervously, peering out the view port.

"Coupla hours. If they managed to track us, we'll know by then. Where's the droid? He'll be sentry."

"Somewhere quiet," was all Leia offered in explanation.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Luke read the meter off for Chewie.

"It's at eighty. Wait, it just fluctuated. Seventy-two. That's not good, is it?"

The Wookiee shook his head. He looked worried. And tired, and sick, Luke thought.

Chewie had to be one of the toughest beings he'd ever met. Tougher even than Leia. He amazed Luke. In battle, he told Luke, Wookiees cannot fall. The moment they fall is the moment of death, and so they get up, and roar and fight some more, and ignore the body, until it either gives up or they finish victorious, and that is healing in itself.

It showed incredible will. Chewie was still in battle mode. He refused to give in to his wound, even though Luke heard his breathing rasp and he moved carefully through the ship, sharply stooped, but he was still in the fight.

"Water is patient," Chewie said. The hyperdrive system had gotten wet when Han crashed the _Falcon_ into the rocky ocean of Ord Mantell, and though the engines were functioning, Chewie worried a short would develop in time. "We'll make it back, but she'll need a thorough going-over."

Death marks were patient, too, Luke wanted to say, but he kept quiet. He felt guilty, somehow. He had a death mark. That's what he assumed would happen should Darth Vader ever catch him. But he'd brought it on himself when he joined the Rebellion. The same for Leia. And Han, for choosing to ignore his obligations. Chewie's mark was through Han. He hadn't earned it like the others had. He didn't deserve it.

Eventually, the death mark would find Han. Chewie must know that. But he was going to continue to fight off each attempt, continue to just fight, until he fell.

It was an uncomfortable thought, a sad one. Luke felt that he had cheated; that he had read the biography of Chewbacca the Wookiee and fast forwarded through the flimsi until the end.

Chewie took the meter away from Luke, who was in the maintenance crawl space, and walked stooped over to the tool chest, dropping the meter in instead of carefully placing it. He couldn't bend, Luke realized.

"You need a thorough going-over, too."

The Wookiee smiled. "By the time we get back we'll all be fully recovered."

"I hope so." It was hard to see that. Luke felt Hoth was so distant, so long ago. He couldn't imagine the _Falcon_ arriving there, and the four of them just disembarking, shrugging off recent events; Leia venturing off to her office to file a report, Luke to see the Rogues and hop in his X-Wing. Han back to...

"What's Han going to do about the death mark?"

"Pay Jabba back."

"How can he?" Luke said, though even as he said it he realized Han had little choice. "He'll kill him."

"Maybe not," Chewie said, a little hopefully. "The bounty is because he reneged on the debt. If he pays him back..."

"He'll still kill him."

"The Hutt likes money."

"I don't know, Chewie. Han's been mocking him for a couple of years! You think he not going to punish Han for that?"

Chewie was quiet a moment. "He will. But Han was a favorite. So maybe he won't kill him."

"He's relying on the fondness of a crime lord," Luke said dryly.

Chewie chuckled.

 _War is just a bunch of death marks,_ Luke thought to himself. _Leia has one out on the Emperor. If I were smart, I'd have one out on Vader. Maybe Han should declare war on the Hutt._

"Anything else you want me to check while I'm in here?" Luke asked Chewie.

Chewie told him how to disconnect the wiring for the sensors they lost, and then they both went out under the hull to bolt a temporary plating over the crumpled turret.

The riveter was noisy. Luke held the panel in place as best he could, wishing he wore something over his ears to muffle the sound while Chewie used the tool. His head was starting to hurt again.

"How are you holding up, Chewie?" Luke asked in concern. "Need to take a rest?"

Chewie opened his mouth to answer, but it was Han's voice that drifted to Luke's ears. He and Leia were nearby, perhaps on the otherside of the turret.

"Did you know those Imps were going to take you straight to Vader?" Han asked curiously.

"Luke," Leia corrected. "I think I've outlived my usefulness."

"You're the Princess."

"I'm only a perceived blow if I die. The war won't stop - one Princess' death will have no effect on that, which is why your idea was so stupid."

"- my idea?"

Leia ignored him. "But Vader," she said, "Vader has been actively searching for Luke."

Luke's lips parted. He didn't know Leia had more intelligence on this. Why hadn't she told him?

"He wants him captured," she concluded.

Han seemed to struggle to digest the information. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I know. All of us."

"No," Leia corrected. "Luke is singled out. We're all captured, and left to eventual execution. Interrogation, torture," Luke caught sight of her wrist waving, as they moved to check a different part of the ship, "and then we die. Luke is to be brought to Vader."

"Still," Han objected confusedly. "For interrogation, torture. Execution."

"We don't think so."

"We?"

"High Council. The intelligence we have has singled out Luke. Named him as one who is specifically to be brought to Vader alive. None of the rest of us; not me, not even Mon, a founder, is given special insistence or treatment. Just Luke."

"The kid?"

Luke heard Leia smile.

There was a flash of a black vest. "Why?"

"We don't know."

"The lightsaber stuff? Vader wants a pal?"

She seemed to smile again. "It's the only connection I've made, too."

"Well, shit. Maybe he wants to just use his lightsaber. For execution purposes. Get some exercise. The old man didn't put up much of a fight."

Chewie was looking at Luke. "Almost done, Skywalker," he said carefully. He resumed with the riveter and Luke couldn't hear any more of what else they said.

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Han was just too damn flippant sometimes, Luke fumed as he tried to clear his aching head in a shower. He couldn't get the temperature right. Too cold and his head felt like it was shrinking; too warm and it expanded to throbbing mush.

'The old man didn't put up much of a fight.' Fuck him. Didn't he know- didn't he see- anyone could, it was sacrifice. _Sacrifice_ , Han. We got away because of him.

 _And you got away because of_ him.

Luke wouldn't hear of it. And just because Luke showed that he, that Ben mattered, that he cared - he had to go and tease? All the time? Even to Leia? Leia, who-

 _For some, to care means to hurt._

All he cares about is himself, and his ship. And a Wookiee, and a taun taun. And Leia. Leia, who hurts. Who- cares.

 _You may count yourself among that number, Luke._

Me. Anger spiked again. Yes! He had me thrown in the hold with her! When I told him it was important to me - _me_ \- that she get away, which means I didn't have to- she- I-

 _You can't be angry with him for treating you as you do her._

No.

Luke shut the water off and squatted to pick up his towel, little silvery lights floating in front of his eyes. They, Han and Chewie, had to be hurting, the thought sneaked in, if he felt like this.

I'm mad about Vader.

A feeling radiated into him, like a tender smile.

Ben. Ben, will you talk to me? Just talk to me. No visions, no... things I don't understand.

 _I am here, Luke._

He sounded so patient, so understanding, that Luke grew frustrated again. Where have you _been_? I've been trying - working -

Luke faltered, the towel around his waist. Had he? He felt the Force; he knew it was there, all the time, around him. He accused it of stealing him. To his kitchen, to drink blue milk with Beru and meet the man he'd never met, his father. But the last time he'd really _tried_ , _really_ tried, was after Vrakith IV, when Han walked with him in the woods and shot him. After that, he'd sort of given - decided to wait.

 _What would your friend Han Solo say?_

He'd say to speak in complete sentences.

Luke made himself laugh. He heard Han say it, too, clear as the cleft in Luke's chin. _Hard to follow you with half a thought, kid._

You're saying I haven't been working hard enough.

 _The path of the Jedi requires discipline. If something comes too easy it is dismissed as easily. It was a lesson your father should have learned, and one I wish you to know before we begin your training._

Luke finished dressing, sitting on the bunk and putting his boots back on. He still hadn't located his lightsaber.

Discipline. Denial. His friends had it. Chewie's spirit was stronger than his body, always fighting. Han had let the _Falcon_ go because he didn't have to promise Luke that Leia's safety was important. Leia - gods, she was the most disciplined, self-denying person he would ever meet. That twitch of the shoulders, that composure that hinted at such anger underneath, that everyone but Han feared it.

Luke couldn't see that he denied himself anything. Steely discipline was, perhaps, something he had not had to employ much in himself. In fact, when he noticed it in his uncle he didn't see it as a strength. He'd never forced himself to go without, and no one had ever asked him to. The life of a moisture farmer was a struggle, and yet, it had all been Owen and Beru's. Luke had been completely unaware of it. It was eye-opening to realize this now, to learn how he had taken everything for granted. Never once could he recall asking Beru what there was to eat because it was there before he thought of it.

He'd been provided for, always, out of the goodness of his guardians' hearts.

Could he go without? Did he have that inner strength? Was this why it took so long to make any progress with the Force, because he simply hadn't tried hard enough?

He felt sheepish all of a sudden. Ben had called him pampered, and maybe he was. He had expected this trait of Force sensitivity, which he apparently inherited from his father, to just manifest itself, raise its glorious head and reveal to him who Luke Skywalker could be. He had to be told he had it, and then he expected to possess it, not work for it.

He reviewed his moments with Ben, saw now the tolerantly patient expression on Ben's face was for Ben, not Luke; he was telling himself he had a new student with a lot to learn. And not just the ways of the Force.

There was something though - something Ben was leaving out.

You're more present where it concerns Vader, you know, he told Ben.

Darth Vader had hunted down the Jedi. And he was still on the hunt.

He stood up and straightened a coverlet, needing to think this through. Darth Vader had killed his father, and now wanted something from Luke, eventually his life, in all probability.

It runs in the family, he recited _._ Orphaned nephew. It wasn't fair. His life was not his own. Ben had seen he lived as a baby. Was that when he was supposed to die? Ben should have just let it happen. If it was going to happen anyway.

 _The future is not set._

Luke ignored Ben's voice, wrapped up in his own thoughts. Why was he even like his father anyway. He never knew him. Born to die.

 _We all are, if you think about it._

And he was so damned disappointed in himself. He'd wandered all over the Wheel, never sensing anything, and on the _Falcon_ hadn't even opened his lightsaber. Leia was the one who should have the Force, Luke grumbled to himself, not for the first time. She handled herself beautifully.

Don't you see how it's a waste? Luke demanded of Ben. If you saved me because of my father, then you saved me because of the Force. And I barely have it-

 _You are wrong there._

I don't want the Force. Not if it means running from death my whole life.

 _We can't-_

You've barely taught me anything, Luke interrupted. Why's it so important if it's just about a mistake you made with my father long ago?

 _Luke, you were a new life when I saved you. Innocent, and sweet. You gave me such hope for the future, even as I watched the world I knew fall apart. Would you have wanted me to lay you down before the sword?_

Luke's lips twisted in his face. He wanted to pout _yes_ but there was something in Ben's voice; a plea, a wail. The picture of the old hermit changed. It wasn't eccentric, it wasn't antisocial. It was heartbreak.

 _Your time will come._ Ben had a hold of himself again. The patient master, wise enough to rise above it all, was back. _You are like your father in many ways, but you are also yourself._

Ben had exposed himself. He was sad, eternally so. _The world I knew fall apart..._ Luke saw the patient face, and knew Ben was waiting for Luke.

He closed his eyes, and saw Alderaan. A world that literally fell apart. Leia's world. Little pieces of it jolted the _Falcon_ when Luke and Ben tried to reach it. She was just a baby when Ben's world fell- it was her father's world as well, Luke remembered.

She needed him. He nodded. Alright, Ben, he told his mentor. I'll be patient. I'll work.

He felt a smile in his mentor's voice. _It won't be long now, Luke._

Luke raised his brows and waited for more. "Won't be long?" he whispered quietly on his bunk. "What won't be long? How about now? I'm here, I'm ready." Luke winced as he heard himself sound completely the opposite of patient.

Ben, apparently, had said enough.

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He found the others in the lounge. Leia was opening packets of some dehydrated substance and pouring them into bowls. Han sat at the lounge table, watching her hands, a far away look in his eyes, and Chewie was finishing a story about making a foodstuff on his native planet.

Leia tapped on a packet, shaking the last bits out. "It's what? Just burned?" she asked, a wrinkle in her nose.

"It's dried over the fire's heat; not cooked," Han said, his voice a low rumble. "Like a jerky."

"Oh," Leia said. "I get it."

"On Tatooine, everyone that dies outside gets turned into jerky," Luke provided as he slid into a seat beside Han. It made Chewie laugh and Luke was sorry, as the Wookiee grabbed his middle to hold his wounded body still.

"Lovely," Leia said, looking at him oddly. "3PO, bring the water, please."

"Do you eat 'em?" Han said, almost in angry challenge, as if his head hurt. "Desert jerky? Funerary rite?"

"Well, no," Luke grinned. C-3PO entered from the galley, carrying a large flask of steaming water. Leia murmured her thanks and poured some into each of the bowls. Luke saw what Leia meant about the droid's fingers.

"Is this lunch?" Luke realized they had all skipped a few meals and he was ravenous. "Doesn't smell bad."

They ate in silence, spoons clanking against their bowls. It reminded Luke he needed to sweep up the shards of broken mug in the smuggling compartment.

The soup was good, for dehy. Salty. "Tatooine's favorite spice," Luke told them.

No one offered the favored spice from their own home world. Luke tried again, "anything else need doing before we lift off?"

"The air lock needs emptying," Chewie said. His breathing was in deep, measured breaths. They couldn't take off too soon, Luke thought.

He got up, to take care of it, but Han patted the air for him to take his seat. "When we're past orbit, Junior," he said tiredly. "You don't drop bodies dirtside, even if it is a way station."

"Right," Luke nodded. He wondered if he should search the bodies. "Would that hunter have something on you? A chip saying he got you? Something to report to the Guild and have your name taken off the list?"

Han slouched down in the seat, his head leaning back. He shrugged at Luke with a quick raise of his brows. "He'd still have to show proof to the payee."

"You mean-"

"Jabba'd want a body. He might accept a picture, but knowing him, he wouldn't pay a hunter for that."

"Oh." Luke quirked his lips, considering Han. Somehow the shadow of stubble and unkempt hair made him look very alive. "You look pretty bad," - it was true- "but I don't think I can make you look dead, like those in the air lock."

"Thanks for the thought, kid," Han said sarcastically.

Four survival suits hung near the air lock. The life support system was showing one hundred percent functioning, which was a relief. Luke wouldn't want to contend with an emergency like that. At least there were four suits; no one would have to deny themselves air, and Chewie, Han and Leia could keep their self-sacrificing noble streaks suppressed. The air lock contained the bodies of the Imperial pilots and the bounty hunter. C-3PO had brought them in here and laid them in a tidy row.

Luke looked at them with distaste. Their skin was gray, and they were just bodies. They were humans, but they didn't look like men. Death wiped away any sign of character. In a way, it made it easy to release them to space. He only felt marginally bad. If the pilots had anyone that cared what happened to them- in Luke's mind it was easier to fight the war thinking they hadn't- it would be dutifully noted in the great method of Imperial record keeping that they hadn't made it back to their station, and notification of their deaths would be sent.

The hunter was a different story, however. He'd be lost to the annals of time. There was no way Luke was going to do him the courteous favor and alert the Bounty Hunter's Guild they were down a member. If anyone knew he'd pegged himself a bounty, they would only wonder what happened because Han Solo's name remained active on the list.

Luke matter-of-factly released the contents. He watched the bodies a moment, curious about space's effect on organic matter. But nothing happened; not to his eye anyhow. They were dead, so it wasn't like conditions of space could affect them. They were probably frozen already. Space had seen death before, lots of times. But mummified physical evidence of it was probably rare. Two pilots and a hunter. Maybe someday, eons after this war was over, they would finally find a finish, and drift into the path of a sun, and be consumed.

Luke grunted. Ironic, that he pictured them lasting far longer than anything else his life affected. That didn't seem fair.

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The engines made that noise again, that change in electric current. "Han's got a new generation of repairs to do once we're back at base," Luke mentioned to Leia.

She had a flimsi open, no doubt typing up her report for debrief. Luke wouldn't bother. She would be interviewed anyway, so he saw writing one as a waste of time.

"There's no rush," she answered, not looking up from the flimsi. "There are other ships he can use for runs, and it's not like the second Death Star's going to be ready anytime soon."

Luke flinched, her ironic cheer puzzling him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he's got to stay, hasn't he? With a death mark, the risk of capture is even greater. He's much safer with us."

Luke wasn't sure he should be the one to break the news to her that Chewie predicted the exact opposite.

"If he's smart, he'll join. You remember Rieekan wanted to commission a rank. That way, when the war is over-"

"He'll still have the bounty," Luke put in.

"-when the war is over, as a member of the New Republic Army in official capacity, we'll be able to negotiate terms of release. All he has to do is wait."

"Who would negotiate?" Luke asked, perplexed. "On behalf of a former smuggler? An item on a Council Meeting's agenda? You'd get laughed out of the room."

"I still say wait." Luke heard that resolve in her voice, "the Empire's been terribly lax with crime syndicates. The Hutts. Those Black Sun pirates call themselves an organization! The New Republic will change all that."

Luke remained silent. He didn't share in her optimism. Not even that the war would be won.

"Tell Han I'll relieve him in a bit, he said instead. "Gonna do some housekeeping."

There was nothing to do about the blaster holes in the ceiling and wall, and Luke's lightsaber was not out here, either. He grabbed a brush and swept up the delicate contents of the hold.

He set his little pile of broken earthenware on the floor and lifted himself out of the compartment, glad to see he managed it on the first try. It had taken him two tries after the crash.

So he truly had been injured. He hadn't known, really. Yes, he'd vomited and couldn't think straight, and his head hurt. But it didn't occur to him then, when it was happening, he'd been hurt. Now that he was healing, he could see the difference. He had to sit down, suddenly overcome with understanding of just how serious their situation was.

He began to walk his collection of shards back to the trash bin. He balanced the pile carefully, trying not to walk too fast to cause a breeze and make their dust fly off, when he heard the distinct sound of Han's voice as he passed the cockpit.

"Don't put your leg up there. You might break something."

"You do it all the time," Leia rejoined stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, I'm captain."

Leia said something Luke didn't catch. He couldn't see her, but the black sole of a small boot touched the ground angrily.

Han, sounding amused, said, "You're mad."

"So are you,"Leia said.

All Luke heard in response was a soft snort of exhale, as if Han was congratulating her on her powers of observation. "There's a lot of things I'm not too happy about, Sweetheart."

Luke was tempted to eavesdrop, but he wasn't going to risk getting caught by Leia. He moved away with his dust pan as quietly as he could.

When he swung back by, with the intent of replacing the lid and putting the brush away, he slowed. They were still talking. Rolling his feet heel to toe, he moved soundlessly past the threshold in slow motion, absorbing their voices.

"What did Chewie mean, when he said 'we always meant you should get away'."

 _Uh-oh._ A warning bell sounded in Luke's head.

"What did he mean?" she asked again.

She wanted it out. She wasn't angling for a fight; she sounded more disappointed. She expected such an attitude from others, Luke even, but not Han.

"You did mean just me? You three had a plan and didn't include me? And I was your plan?" Luke shivered. Her voice had grown colder.

Han said, a little belligerently, "Don't yell at me. I've told you before, Luke's the brains. And anyway, I was half dead at the time. It was Chewie and him handling clean-up."

"And I suppose me patching Chewie's chest was not helping?" Leia demanded.

"It probably could have waited," Han grunted insolently.

Luke decided Han could use some rescuing now, and entered the cockpit with a raised a hand. "It was me," he said bashfully. He could sense temples flaring and thought dealing with Leia directly and honestly was the best approach.

"I was the one that handled the pilots trying to make off with your ship," Leia continued hotly. "While you lay there half dead."

"I crashed her on purpose so no one could make off with her," Han stated, pointing at his chest.

Luke couldn't help himself. "Like that was a brilliant idea. Chewie was the only one that got hurt due to the hunter. The rest of us got hurt in the crash!"

"It wasn't like I could count on you, Junior, hiding in the hold," Han snarled.

Angry now, Luke retorted, "Chewie threw us in, and you were standing on it!"

"It was foolish to separate Luke and me from you both," Leia said. "We could have helped."

"You can't out-princess the Empire," Han said spitefully.

"We just wanted to keep you safe," Luke confessed.

"Safe?" Leia sputtered to Luke. "I'll have you know, Commander, I am perfectly capable of handling myself-"

"Oh, so you're calling me Commander now?"

"-and I don't need anyone keeping me safe."

"Which is how you wound up in a detention cell on the Death Star," Luke countered angrily, "scheduled for execution."

"Which is how you two jokers wound up in a garbage masher," Leia yelled back.

"No thanks to you," Han supplied unhelpfully.

"Let's be clear," Leia seethed. She spread her fingers out on the armrest to emphasize her point."I got myself on the Death Star, and I'm the one who got us off."

"Your idea of safety is to be dead!" Luke snapped. He left abruptly, forgetting to ask about his lightsaber. His eyes were wide. It was the first time he raised his voice to her. First time in two years.

He'd fought back today because she didn't understand. Everything he did, he did for Leia. And he was not going to let Leia, more than an object, more than his friend, the reason for his every move, tell him he was wrong.

Discipline, denial. She had it all and he lacked both. It was because of him that Leia was still alive. And that made him right.

How she angered him right now. That she refused to see.

She had cracked a little today. She wasn't often angry. If she showed any, her anger was a correct, if harsh reaction, just like General Dodonna's snapping impatience was him being a general. She was so in control, her composure eerily hard and cold, like stone, that those she worked with her feared her. If they feared her composed, then no one wanted to imagine what she must be like when it slipped. So they went out of their way to not let her anger bubble to the surface.

Han was the only one who purposefully sought to crack her carefully maintained marble surface. It seemed Han was a bit like Leia in some regards. Where she showed an infinite capacity to absorb grief and sadness, her marble veined with beauty and color, Han seemed to be able to soak up anger without becoming bitter, melting his own detachment.

Luke picked up the medscanner and paused as he realized something. Leia's compassion occurred when Alderaan was destroyed. What had caused Han's sympathy with anger?

Luke shrugged. Maybe he was giving Han too much credit. Maybe he just enjoyed her attention directed only to him, even if it was to flood him with magma, her body warm, her words hot. For a moment, until her temper cooled, Han had the Princess to himself. And not many could say that.

He ought to see to C-3PO, which meant he would have to pass by the cockpit again.

"You think you should, don't you. Die." The boot moved closer to Han's chair, Leia's finger jabbing Han's leg. "You're not surprised by the death mark. You accept it even. But you're mad how it affects everyone around you."

"Dr. Organa in session," Han mocked. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Luke knew exactly how Leia would look in this hostile exchange. She would lower her chin and waggle her head a little, like a bantha bull ready to charge.

"You think you should die, too. That's why you're pissed at Luke. You kind of like the idea of being a martyr for the Alliance."

"No," the boot started to dance agitatedly, "I'm angry he would think it's fine for him to die _for_ me."

"You don't want anyone else to die a martyr. Just you."

"No," Leia insisted with frustration, "he has no right to place more value on someone else's life than his own."

"Just you do."

"No, Han, that's not what I-" she cut off abruptly, too angry to speak.

"Oh, I think so, Princess. You-"

They were going to argue some more. Luke whispered a growl in the back of his throat and moved on past the cockpit. They were both right, about each other, probably, but snarling insights at each other wasn't going to help the other, and Luke wasn't interested in joining them again.

Chewie was somewhere and Han was arguing, so Luke continued to look for something to do. He wondered if it would be harmful to peel off the damaged insulation from the hunter's blaster fire. He should ask Han first.

"... don't hate the kid," Han's voice drifted softly out the cockpit. Luke stopped dead in his tracks. From this angle he could see Han's bent knee, foot propped up on the edge of the console. The boot was scuffed.

"Joining the Rebellion doesn't mean you are swearing a life debt to High Council," Leia said loftily. "To the galaxy, but not individual leaders. We are not looking for slavish devotion, like you."

How they could go from shouting to earnest conversation Luke had no idea.

"You think I want it? I thought it'd be fun one day to piss off some Imps and helped a few Wookiees slip out of their collars, and I'm stuck with one the rest of my life."

"You don't mean that," Leia denied his assertion quietly. She sounded like she didn't believe him. Luke agreed with her. One didn't undertake to free slaves on a whim of fancy.

"Not that, but-" Han paused. "It's the same as you. He's got no right to judge my life important."

"Well, you're stuck with him. And lucky for you, I'd say."

"And you're stuck with Luke. Lucky for you, I'd say."

Luke let out a breath, unaware it had frozen in his lungs when he heard Leia mention his name. It felt odd, to be talked about.

Slavish devotion? he wondered as he made his way past the cockpit. Was that how Leia saw him? Like Chewie was with Han? No, actually that was an insult to the Wookiee. He had half a mind to get revenge and talk about _them,_ with the other half of the conversation, and went looking for Chewie. He found him finally, in his cabin, with his hands over his stomach on his hammock, eyes closed. Resting, finally.

Luke wouldn't disturb him. He about-faced and retraced his steps. He double checked the lounge, and the holochess table where they had eaten the dehy, but he was pretty sure he would have noticed his lightsaber earlier. It was probably in the cockpit.

Han and Leia were still talking, voices no longer impatient or blaming, just soft.

"He's been pretending to be married to me and he still doesn't get it," Leia said.

"I agreed to it too, you know, and not because you're the Princess," Han told her. "He loves you."

Luke felt his cheeks flush at the exposure. Luke had formulated his plan because Leia appeared to him first as a holomessage. She propelled him on a life journey he knew was not over yet, and she had to be there to see it finish. Han went along with it for no other reason other than she was Leia. He might as well be saying he loved her, too. He wondered when Leia would put two and two together.

"Is my lightsaber in here?" Luke interrupted the two of them.

Han sat up. "Yeah." He unlocked a small panel below the console. "I put it in here." He handed it back to Luke.

"Thanks." Luke hitched it to his belt and regarded Leia. She was outwardly cool to him, inexpressive. "Leia," he told her decisively, "the only thing I was wrong about was making Han and Chewie think your survival had to come at our expense. We should have stuck together. But I'm not going to apologize to you. I wasn't wrong, and I don't care how you think."

Han twisted painfully around to see Luke better. "Did you read the dosage on the pain pills kid? Only supposed to take one."

Luke ignored Han's teasing. Leia's large brown eyes were assessing him with interest. "I'm not apologizing either," she said.

"You think you know my reasons," Luke continued, "but you don't."

"Well then, explain yourself better," Leia said.

"No," Luke shook his head. "Not now. You've lost your world, and I don't think you'll be able to understand until you find your place in a new one." He held up a hand, seeing her gather her anger, stopping her from speaking. "And a war is not a world."


	23. Thirst

From Anobis to Ord Mantell.

The person who arrived at the Wheel after Anobis was a different Luke than the one who left Ord Mantell. The earlier Luke had drifted, foundationless, the lack of gravity a perfect illustration for the lack of direction his life had. Then he had dropped like a stone into the ocean, and he had stood, side aching but spine stiff. And taken off.

It wasn't _all_ bad. The terror was still with him, like a bad taste in his mouth. His own sense of disappointment too, as ugly as his black eye when he looked in the reflector. But the days of riding along, of watching his destiny shape itself while observed as a spectator: that was gone.

He didn't sense it as much on the ship, sitting in his cabin and thinking, but it helped to get out. When Leia had the _Falcon_ make all these quick jumps, sometimes two in a day, and he walked behind her and Han, in countrysides, through jungles, or on coasts; when it was raining or it was hot or when the weather was so glorious it made Luke want to sing, that's when he noticed it.

He was at peace. Leia was working, or seeking, or frenetic - he hadn't decided yet which- but he felt serene. He didn't mind the last nine days because he found this new... when he thought he could name it, it slipped away, like a dream upon waking. Almost like an assurance, or strength. Confidence perhaps, but not really. A sense of belonging, anywhere. He was part of something. The galaxy's grand plan. Life. The Force.

It wasn't startling like it had been on Hoth. His sense of reality wasn't cleaved in two. There was no Beru or Vader trying to send him a message. There was only everything. The ground of the earth they trod, the sky. That mysterious energy that connected all living things. That's all it was. It was mundane. It might be plain or beautiful, or even something he wanted to smite, but it was always there. It didn't leave him, peak and ebb like Ord Mantell's ocean waves.

He had a companion now, like his soul walked beside him, stepping on the green grass as Leia led them to the next village on her tour. He wasn't alone. It was a lovely feeling. It didn't mean he had all the answers, by any means. He probably never would. Look at Ben, Luke thought; rueful and alone before his murder. If the Force provided a trained Jedi with that type of omniscience, the man wouldn't be dead. Wouldn't be sorry. Wouldn't have left the galaxy alone to deal with Darth Vader.

Ah, admittedly Vader was the one thing that edged into his subconscious, spoiled his peaceful feeling. Darth Vader wanted him alive and no one else. At least that took away his thoughts of impending death. Vader bought him some time. What had Han said? _That always changes the odds_.

Leia feared he would be frightened and disturbed by Vader's interest, which was why she kept quiet about it, but he wasn't. Somehow, Vader was a part of this, a piece of the answer of what it meant to be Luke Skywalker. Ben had instructed Vader in the ways of the Force, as Ben would Luke, and Vader had killed Luke's father. Luke would utilize whatever assistance the Alliance offered and evade capture, but if the time came that he fell into Vader's clutches, he was ready. He would get answers, for him and for Ben, and then he could die.

Not without a fight, though.

Was that revenge? Was it wrong, to ask the Force, since it was Luke's, to punish Vader for Luke's father? Would the Jedi approve of revenge? Is that why Ben's thoughts dwelt on the man who'd once been his pupil? Was Luke to kill Vader for Ben, the Force, or the Alliance? And what about for himself?

Just who did the Force belong to? Luke had the feeling the answer was everyone and no one. So if it was Luke's, was it not also Vader's? And if Luke wanted it to help him kill Vader, and Vader wanted it to help him live, then would the Force act? At all?

Patience, he told himself. He had questions. Many. And it seemed he had gained time. Time to learn, to study. To do what the Force bid. Because if he had it, then it most certainly had him.

It had been nine days. Nine days since Luke emptied the airlock of three men. He couldn't call them enemies. They'd only been doing what they thought their life directed them to. The hunter was only after the smuggler, who still hadn't found the path his life directed him towards, but it certainly wasn't smuggling. Han just wasn't listening, Luke thought. And the pilots were to collect him and Leia, two lives who annoyed the Emperor to the point he ordered their deaths. Only Vader wouldn't allow Luke's death...

Another flash, a taste of insight, so quick that trying to consciously say it, _there was something between Vader and the Emperor..._ and then it was gone.

Damn, he thought.

Patience, he reminded himself. Discipline. It will come.

He lifted the device that hung around his neck from a strap to his eye, honing in on this green landscape, centering himself. It was one of the _Falcon's_ security recorders, dismantled and reassembled to function on its own by Chewie. Part of the ruse Leia was putting forth.

She was working. He couldn't say at what, precisely. It was her own cover. When upset, throw oneself into work. He wanted to help her identify what upset her. She was like him; she had that niggling thought that wouldn't let her sit still. It made the insides roil and the palms sweat and it made you get up and _move._

Of course it stemmed from Ord Mantell. The pilots? She had shot them. But that's not what bothered her, taking two lives. It should, Luke thought. It was pretty damned determined of her; her mind so orderly and composed that she could see two strange men at the helm of a ship and know instinctively, understand that flash of insight without having to consciously acknowledge it: enemies. Kill them.

It could be fear of capture. Fear of Vader. She'd been through that once already.

Fear of death? Was Leia actually ever afraid though? And it wasn't really death she was afraid of. The corpses of Luke's aunt and uncle had taught him that. They had died. He could do it, too. And Leia had seen Alderaan die, many deaths, so she could do it too.

Possibly fear of loss. Not her own death, but Luke's, and Han's. She hovered over Chewie, the most seriously wounded of them, stayed by his side while they flew, changed his bandages, checked for infection.

He was leaning toward fear of failure. _I got myself on the Death Star, and I'm the one who got us off_ , she had told Luke and Han.

He didn't know much about Leia before he met her on the Death Star. Of course, he knew she was a princess and a Senator. And apparently a rebel operative. Which made her so much more unreadable and mysterious and crazy. How had she time for all that? To think Luke had spent most of his time trudging through the desert, day in and day out.

She had a mission to retrieve stolen plans to the Death Star and bring them to Alderaan, where they would be analyzed, and the Death Star would be destroyed. They had been analyzed, and of course the Death Star was no more. But she had been captured, and now there was a second Death Star.

So she was working, that fire within fanned higher because of something on Ord Mantell. She was writing. Flimsi after flimsi. Stacks. Fed them through the encryptor, copied them, and had Han set the _Falcon_ down, somewhere, anywhere that had a post drop, and sent them off.

A tech savvy person would be able to trace what she entered into the _Falcon,_ but Leia wasn't concerned about that. She trusted that Han would not let the ship get captured. She trusted, Luke figured, that Han would stick around.

She kept him on the move, though, always directing him to fly somewhere, and they pored over star charts together, discussing landings that suited her purpose.

Ord Mantell had brought this, now, too: this new behavior in Leia, and Luke marveled at it, tried to pinpoint its origin.

It was... well, she sat very close, to the point Han could smell her hair, or she put her hand on his arm, and Luke would never say it to her face, ever; but it was... it seemed like flirting, Luke decided, the initial realization surprising him. No, that wasn't fair to Leia. She might be a Princess and fighting a war, but she was also a woman and she had been drawn to Han from the very beginning. It just wasn't like her to act on it. Which meant she didn't know she was doing it, and which was why he would never make her aware of it.

And Han knew it. Of course he did, Luke thought. Han was no babe in the woods. His- Luke was as uncomfortable admitting this to himself as much as he was admitting he was witnessing Leia actually flirting - but Han's- there was something different about him, that set him apart from Luke being called a man and Han being called a man. It was a quality: maleness, or masculinity, or- Luke kicked a pebble. _If anything would please come up and distract me I'd be grateful_ \- virility. If Luke had been born with the Force then Han was born with virility. He half-smiled, _H_ _ey, Ben..._ as he imagined a philosophical conversation about natural talents. _Would you rather have the Force, or..._

Luke shrugged to himself. He couldn't explain it. He was a man and he appreciated women, and Han was a man whom women appreciated. Luke thought wistfully of Talna, wondered what she was up to now. She had never met Han. Maybe she shouldn't, he reflected with a wry smile. Or maybe he could ask her. _Hey, Talna..._

He'd seen Han flirt, Luke recalled. To anyone. His normal conversation could border on flirtatious, if he was feeling mischievous. It was hilarious when General Dodonna was rattled by Han's personality, but another matter when his playful talk was directed at Leia. Luke lifted his head to gaze at the two walking ahead of him. He'd always thought Leia was secretly pleased that Han didn't treat her like everyone else did, as a princess, yet when he treated her like he did everyone else, she became frustrated.. _.Hmm._ Sometimes it was difficult to figure them out.

But Han wasn't flirting now. He looked like a thirsty man given a drink, Luke thought. He was quiet, his eyes grown brown, fixed on Leia instead of the star charts.

If Luke so much as pointed out their behavior to either of them, he knew they'd wind up back on Hoth so fast no one would know what hit them, including both Han and Leia.

He couldn't say he minded the past nine days. He knew they should get back to Echo Base, though any urgency was removed thanks to one of Leia's encrypted messages to Rieekan letting him know they were safe. He missed the Rogues, and flying, and Wedge. Even the snow, oddly.

And it wasn't like they weren't working. Well, Leia was, treating the galaxy like it was her office. She was communicating with numerous contacts in a series of coded messages. Luke was curious and a little worried for her. The flurry of activity was no doubt gratifying to Leia, but her large eyes were intense. He wanted to ask her, who are you writing to? He wanted to know how she knew where to send them. Surely it was difficult to reach a Rebel leader in hiding. Was all this always committed to her memory? How the hells did the Empire not manage to bring about the end of the Alliance when they interrogated her aboard the Death Star? How the hells had she managed not to give it to them?

Luke remembered her office on base. Functional, large; she did the same things in it as she was doing here. Except there she didn't get out. She didn't have the opportunity to talk with anyone who might not be fighting the war, but felt its effects the same. And there a picture of Alderaan as viewed from space hung on her wall. Blue, green, white and brown. She had no picture now, but Alderaan was with them just the same.

They moved rapidly, sometimes two worlds in one day. From Ord Mantell to Bilbringi, to Esseles, Ralltiirr. Luke checked the star charts and exchanged a worried glance with Han, who shrugged and waved a hand. _Her call,_ he seemed to say. They were edging closer and closer to the Core, where the heart of the Empire beat, where Alderaan could no longer be seen. They stayed away from ports where the _Falcon_ risked being recognized.

She led Luke and Han to small towns or villages populated by humans, and they stepped back as she introduced Luke as a graduate student of human cosmography. "Owen," Leia told everyone, was documenting the path of human settlement from the Core worlds out, and she, a journalist, had teamed up with him to chronicle how the galactic civil war affected human life. Han did not earn a proper introduction, and was simply their guide and translator. She did most of the talking, while Luke took photoflimsis, and when she thought it was time to leave she asked where she could record her article and send it off.

It was all a pretense. There would never be an article, and what was sent off was an encrypted message. No one challenged them, though. No one pointed out that Leia wasn't taking notes. They were happy to talk with her. Human cosmography, which until now Luke had never known was an actual field of study, and by Han's eye roll suspected the term just rolled off Leia's tongue, tried to find the beginning of time for the humans of a world. Their mythology.

She looked so young, like this, Luke thought, so fresh. Her hair was wound in a coil to disguise the length and she wore no make up. They just met people. No one, as far as Luke could tell, was a Rebel leader in hiding. He really had no idea what Leia was aiming to accomplish.

And she was radiant, to those she met. Genuine. Her eyes smiled, and she listened. She gave. She was elegant and regal, but it wasn't because she was a trained princess. It was because she was Leia.

Leia always brought them to the point where modern times altered the mythology. She said it was changes brought about by war, but it was really Alderaan. Every night sky they had visited in the past nine days had changed. Each one had lost Alderaan.

There was a Princess in disguise, a Jedi in disguise, a barely disguised smuggler, and motives not yet clear.

Luke tried not to be completely useless, but to be honest, the topic was a bit beyond him. Han played his role well, for which Luke was resentful. It wasn't hard to look like a guide when you carried the supplies in a pack on your back, and when you could translate dialects of Coruscanti to a princess in disguise who pretended she didn't speak it. Sometimes Basic was spoken in the places they visited, which was a relief to Luke - shouldn't a human cosmographer have a smattering of the common human languages? He knew how to count to twenty in Coruscanti - who didn't - but hadn't paid attention in school in language class. The teacher was a droid, he remembered as he plodded along behind Leia, and he had spent the class time doodling images of his Skyhopper. What moisture farmer needed Coruscanti? Too bad 3PO wasn't along, Luke thought sometimes. Then Han could feel useless too. But the droid was too slow-moving for Leia's rapid drive, and they left him aboard the _Falcon_ with Chewie.

Today's planet - Luke had forgotten to get the name of it- was green, a grassy covering that was short, smooth and soft; rolling in small hills that ended at a treeline. The sky was a deep royal blue but there was a strong golden light from a sun. The peaks of only several roofs were visible in the near distance.

Luke lifted the viewer of the security camera again to his eye. This would be a good picture. The black of Han's clothing, tall and body-hugging; a thin black line. The soft billows of Leia's skirt and pleated blouse, like she was descended from the sky, soft. They stood out in contrast to the yellow, blue and green. The plant life under their feet bent and surrendered to these new visitors.

Luke held back a bit, because Leia was short and Han's head wasn't in the frame and because the Force rushed around him like a wind.

There were lots of people outside. Very few buildings, though, which was interesting. He glanced at Leia and Han quickly. This was another place, different yet the same. Leia would talk to the people and Luke would walk around and take pictures.

He wiped sweat from his brow. This place was hot. Not as hot as Tatooine; the desert was so hot his sweat evaporated as soon as it beaded on his skin. He wished the people rode speeders here. He'd have liked to kick up some breeze in one. Some of the gentle wisps of hair that rose around Leia's head were plastered wet to her forehead, and Han pulled at the back of his vest.

A man rose from a spot where he sat on the ground and joined them. Leia always asked for the Elder, or Storyteller, or Mayor. This one, the Old Timer, did not invite them inside any of the sparse buildings. Luke began to move around the intersection of the grassy lanes as Leia explained their purpose and began her interview.

The Old Timer obliged Leia, watching Luke as he began to take pictures of the village. He hoped the elderly man would warm up to Leia's gracious manner and invite them to stay for a meal, as had happened elsewhere. It was another thing he did not mind at all about not returning to Echo Base immediately. He liked to eat, he decided, and what he ate on Echo Base was not that tasty. And with the _Falcon's_ galley out of commission, his stomach hadn't felt full when they'd had to eat ration bars.

The place was quiet; primitive, Luke thought. Leia would not find a post drop here. They would have to keep walking, or fly to a different part of the planet. Everything was done outdoors, and everyone was a variation on the same human: young or old, male or female, they all shared a sloping forehead, darkly browned skin, heavy brow, and thick lower lip. Each wore their hair the same length, unadorned. Their clothing was a large shift tunic, dyed in shades of blue and green, their feet bare. They sat on the grass and did business from tables or crates.

Luke checked the wares. No one sold water. They must have open access to a well or stream nearby. There was fresh food, eggs and plant produce, some feathered animals and a liquid contained within some part of an animal's anatomy that became a canteen.

He took a picture of Leia with the Old Timer, because he liked to document the places where law governed for her. No building was identified as the political seat. He also always made sure to capture an image of the local tavern or cantina for Han, for fun. There would be no place here to shuffle a Sabacc deck later, but Han's nose was sniffing in the canteen thing, and a woman? man? was encouraging him to try a sip from their seat on the grass. Luke got a picture of Han with his head tilted back, holding the- it looked like a balloon- with both hands high above him.

Green, gold, blue. Colors. Leia in white. Their boots, black. He closed his eyes and someone was racing across the grass, fleet and sure-footed, that same hair blowing off that same face. He opened his eyes. It could have been any of the people here, or any that lived previously.

Understanding came. Luke bent and took off his boots and socks and wiggled his feet in the grass. A person beamed at him. He smiled back and raised his boots to Han, who answered with a raise of his brows. Luke nodded at him encouragingly, and Han scowled but sat and began to remove his boots. He leaned forward to peer into the grass, and Luke grinned again. Han, inveterate spacer, was leery of insects.

After nine days, Luke had learned what questions to ask. He approached the Old Timer, and Leia took a step outward to signal permission for him to talk. "Your earth has shaped you," he mentioned to the man, showing him the collection of homogeneous features on the faces he photographed, "how would you say you shaped the earth?"

The old man was interested. He'd never thought of their lives here like that, he explained to Luke; never confronted the genetics of their history. Luke caught Han's eye by accident and tried not to smile when Han mouthed 'cosmography' humorously, his lips exaggerating the formation of the 'm' and the 'y'.

The Old Timer had a ready answer to Luke's question. He was growing excited now, as if he was visiting his own world for the first time himself. Leia's gift. Maybe there was something to this human cosmography. "Our shade," he beckoned to Luke, who finally got out of the sun as he stepped into a building. It was dark inside. "Shade," Luke murmured. There was no furniture. At the apex of where the two roof walls joined to a point was painted a yellow circle.

"The sun," Luke smiled.

"The food is brought," the old man explained, "at the Highing and Lowing."

"Ah," Luke responded, his eyes glazing with disappointment. The village dining hall. It was far from sunset, and Leia, if one was offered, would probably decline an offer to stay and eat. He took a photograph since it was important to the man. "Where do you spend the Darkening?" Luke asked, guessing at the term for night. He felt it was a good guess. It was another nudge from the Force.

The Old Timer took him to another building, which looked the same as the first, only the sun's rays were painted slanting across both roof walls. They slept together, they ate together, Luke realized. They stayed outdoors together. Were they scared of the dark?

The Force prodded Luke again. He looked at Leia, and asked the Old Timer, "and what of the other darkening?"

"The final one?" the man asked.

"Yes, the final one. It was called Alderaan."

"The Green One," the Old Timer agreed.

There, Luke had brought Leia the war. What they came for. He stepped back to Han as the Old Timer pointed in the sunny sky and described to Leia the gray haze that had been visible for months at night, covering light year's worth of green light that was Alderaan in their night's horizon.

"They're sun worshippers," Luke informed Han.

"Where did it go?" the Old Timer asked Leia.

"It's 'cause of you," Han blamed Luke, eyeing Luke's bare feet.

"What?" For a minute, Luke thought Han meant because Luke was from a planet with two suns. There was no way a human cosmographer would credit Tatooine with building a sun cult this far away. Or Han could be blaming Luke for the loss of Alderaan, because he and Ben had chartered passage there at the moment of Alderaan's destruction. But Han was watching the conversation between the Old Timer and Leia.

"No sun did that," Leia said.

"You told her she lost her world," Han said.

"She did," Luke answered matter-of-factly.

"And you told her she couldn't regard the Alliance as a world."

"I said -"

"'A war is not a world'," Han quoted. "That's what you said."

"Yeah, maybe," Luke couldn't remember the exact wording of what he'd told her nine days ago.

"She had _us_ there, Luke." Han's eyes were on Luke's earnest and green, like the grass. Luke always knew to listen carefully when Han used his name. "And Rieekan. And -"

"-at Unlos Tagge," Leia was saying. She pressed a flimsi into the Old Timer's hand. "Give this to him. There is a place where ones who miss the Green One are gathering. We will stop the men who took the Green One away."

"She's working, Han. She's-"

"By _herself,_ Luke," Han hissed. "What work do you see Mothma doing, 'sides receiving messages? You realize how many she's sent?"

"We don't know that," Luke said, starting to feel defensive. "I don't see that I did - she's not looking for Alderaan," he argued. "Just talking about it."

"A world doesn't have to be a place," Han said stubbornly. "It can be just where you wake up."

"You mean like on the _Falcon?_ You?" Luke shifted his feet so that his back was to Leia, hiding how he and Han were talking. "It's not the same. You have a world. You can go back anytime."

"Kid," Han sighed, "we are flying around, visiting human settlements. Humans," his finger jabbed in Luke's chest. "And she's talking to ones the war's hardly come to, asking about Alderaan. You," the finger jabbed again, "took her belonging away." Han's head tilted a fraction, nailing his point home, and Luke's brows furrowed, trying grasp what he meant.

A homeworld had a way of shaping an individual; Luke believed that. His uncle Owen, a Tatooinian, had an outlook on life that was as dry as the desert. Han was proud of his luck, something to Luke so nonexistent that it had to be Corellian. Alderaan had created the House of Organa, and in so doing, brought about its own end.

 _I needed a place to stay._ ...Han's long ago explanation drifted to the forefront of Luke's memory... _where you wake up._ "I see what you're saying," Luke said. "There's different kinds of worlds." He nodded. "Alright." Han meant the world you call home, not your homeworld. "I'll fix it."

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They departed, as Luke predicted they would, way before sundown. Leia wanted to get back to the _Falcon_ and squeeze in another jump. They walked back carrying their boots. Han had gotten over his leeriness of insects and was sauntering barefoot with the same rangy grace that carried him across the confines of the _Falcon_ and the passages of Hoth.

He liked when Han walked like that. Sometimes Luke worried about him, when Han was trigger happy and bitter and greedy and Luke started to believe all the things Han insisted on so loudly. _There's no mystical energy field controls my destiny._ But his walk gave him away. He'd seen a lot, but more, he'd done a lot. And he was open for more. It reminded Luke there was an indebted Wookiee at Han's side, Bloodstripes down his pants, a Medal of Bravery around his neck.

"Can't do this on Hoth," Luke commented good-naturedly, a silent nudge to Leia. But they would have fresh food anyway: Han had brought forth a Sabacc deck from an inner vest pocket and traded it for the anatomical balloon-canteen thing holding a liquid and some of the produce.

"You should have gotten some eggs instead of that drink," Luke complained. "I'm not touching it."

"I think it's a bladder," Han commented, squeezing it with interest. "I'll show Chewie. Wookiees do something like this on Kasshyyk." He looked up at Luke frankly, finally registering the younger man's groan of disgust. "I'll pour some out in a glass for your delicate lips. Wasn't bad. And no way to cook eggs, remember? If Her Whiteness wasn't in such a hurry I'd build a fire and cook 'em outside." He palmed the release and stood at the ramp's corner after it descended.

Leia shot him a glare as she passed, and he chuckled. "The ramp sounds like it's going to fall off," she said tartly, but brushed close by him, her fingers cupping his elbow lightly, as if for balance. Her comment cut off his chuckle, but her fingers stopped any retort. He stared after her, a torn look on his face.

"She's all talk," Luke reassured Han, wondering if he should tease the Corellian by imitating Leia's physical closeness, but decided against it. "Just like you."

Han thrust his pack into Luke's chest. "Put the food away. I'm gonna check on Chewie."

Luke did as he was told and then went to find Leia. "Where to next?" Luke asked her.

"I'm trying to decide," she answered, her face back in the nav'puter.

"I think it should be Hoth," Luke said. Leia's head snapped up. "How long would you say we've been gone since we left for Anobis? That was a long trip. Three weeks?"

She nodded, watching him warily.

"When's the season going to change?" Luke asked idly. "If we hit Spring Wet they'll halt all in and out, you know. We need to get back before then. And then Han will be stuck there until Dry comes."

"He's staying, so that doesn't matter," Leia said.

"Is he?" Luke hadn't heard a thing one way or the other, except Chewie's opinion and Leia's fantasy. "Hibernation's over for the tauntauns too at the change. Maybe Lucky will have a baby this year."

Leia smiled faintly. "Grandpa Solo."

"Right," Luke chuckled lightly, all the while planning his next words. "Han thinks you're doing this all yourself, you know. That Mon Mothma can't be helping much."

"She is," Leia said. "She agrees with me. She was on Chandrila for the anniversary. The Empire took credit for blowing up a temple where she gave her speech. Thirty five were killed."

Luke clucked exasperatedly. "Anyone from our side?"

"The only reason thousands weren't killed was the event was over. The bomb's timer cut out. The casualties were a cleanup crew. Mon and the two Gold Squadron escorts left the system right away."

"The Empire seems like they've adopted our practice of small terror strikes."

Leia appreciated Luke's observation. "That's exactly what's happened," she said with a nod. "I knew we'd get an earful from General Dodonna for going after those Ties on Anobis. But look what happened on Chandrila! Ties hit the agricultural area where General Rieekan spoke, too."

"Is Mon Mothma doing like us, then? Traveling?"

Leia shook her head.

"Leia, why? We've been hitting closer and closer to the Core. You're not trying to get us captured, are you? After what's happened?"

"No," Leia dropped heavily into the navigator's seat and sighed. "But," she looked at her lap, thinking. "If I were on Hoth, waiting for whatever mission you or Han was completing, and the _Falcon_ came back without him or you or Chewie, I would," her eyes lost focus, "I would...it wouldn't," she pressed her lips together, unable to express herself.

"Well, sure," Luke shrugged, trying to help. "You'd feel bad. Sad."

She shook her head rapidly in disagreement. "More than that. I wouldn't want to just know, Han's neck got broken. Or the ship crashed. Or Chewie was shot. I would want to know so much more."

Luke took the second rear seat in the cockpit, his knees touching Leia's, encouraging her to continue.

"It's not enough, someone is dead. It's just..." she placed a tired hand on her forehead. "Not enough."

"You'd want," Luke ventured, completely unsure, "a body?" He was thinking, _a planet?_ If a planet could be a corpse.

"No," Leia lifted her face to Luke's. She looked tired. "I'd want everything that led up to it. Actions. Words. Thoughts." Her eyes closed. "Gods help me, I'd want the last bits of life." She swallowed twice and Luke waited. "I'd want...I couldn't do it. Let him go. Or you, or Chewie. It wouldn't be Alderaan again, not a world, not something that big, but it would be... oh," she exhaled in a desperate sigh, "I don't know."

"A world," Luke said, understanding wholly now what Han meant. "It would be another world lost to you."

"I suppose," Leia murmured, but she looked grateful. "This has been hard, listening to the people, telling me they saw Alderaan leave their sky. And within one world, it was so many, Luke, so many. My father...he must have thought I was dead. If he heard of my capture. Did he regret sending me? Because my death also meant my failure? Or, was he glad to die? To see me again?

Luke didn't know what to say. He stared at his clasped hands and rubbed a thumb knuckle. He knew he shouldn't say what he thought: _you're so lonely._ "Leia. I love you. Han loves you. Chewie too," he added hastily, just in case he was wrong. "Know that. If I get killed, and you get the news, and there's no body, no ship, nothing. You can tell yourself, 'Luke loved me. Han loved me'." Because he didn't think he was wrong.

She was twisting her fingers in her lap. "And these stories, the myths of the places we've been to. How they knew Alderaan. Human cosmography."

"It's real then?"

Her smile came a little stronger. "Yes. It's real." She shifted in her seat. "It didn't start out like this, I hadn't meant to, but as we've been going... it's like a pool, and I'm trying to fill it, but the water level never rises. I think, when the war is over, I'd go back, keep trying to fill it. Collect the stories of Alderaan."

"Thoughts," Luke said. Because she couldn't have lives.

"In a way. Impact. To know it was seen, that it was part of the fabric of lives elsewhere. That it mattered."

Luke nodded. "We have to go back to Hoth," he said gently, and Leia sighed. "Alderaan matters there, too."

"I know." Leia nodded softly. "I know. It's... different here. Softer. Gentle. To me."

"Personal."

"Yes. I suppose that's it." She looked up suddenly, worry crossing her face. "Have I been selfish?"

Luke shrugged. "I doubt it. You? I saw you give the Old Timer a flimsi. Isn't he to contact his leader in the city? To join the Alliance?"

"Yes. Mon and I are pressuring worlds to declare their allegiance. It's time to change tactics." She crossed a leg over the other, sounding more herself. "Construction of that new Death Star must be stopped. We aren't getting anywhere bloodying the Empire's nose. We have to strike at the heart. We have to show our own heart."

"I figured you were recruiting."

"I was reminding. These worlds knew Alderaan, Luke. As a neighbor. Mon has been recruiting. She's in contact with leaders on Bothawui and Sullust."

"I was wondering about the non-human angle." Luke nodded. "Makes sense. They're faster enemies to the Empire than some humans, and Palpatine will disregard them."

"Of course we've realized that, too."

Of course, Luke grunted. Leia and Mon Mothma were the politicians. No doubt they'd been working this angle for the past two years. "So I can tell Han you're working?" Luke grinned.

"You don't have to tell Han anything," Leia said impatiently.

"Come on, Leia," Luke urged softly. "You have to make up your mind about him. You can't hate him alive and you can't love him dead."

"Why would I love a dead person?"

She had not twisted his words yet she'd twisted his meaning just the same. Deft, fluid Leia. "You can't have it both ways." Luke was growing sullen. Why was it up to him to tell her? Couldn't she see? "And you can't decide you love him when he's dead."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Luke."

"You may not know, but I think he does." He might at that, Luke reflected. One reason Han had survived this long was he knew human nature. And he knew Leia's nature better than anyone. Han could say something. Why hadn't he?

So Ord Mantell had changed Han as much as it had Luke and Leia. It went back to what he was afraid of, just like Luke had considered for Leia. He remembered the way Han's eyes looked at her.

Not death, not capture, not loss. Leia. He was afraid of her, because loving her encompassed all the others. If she loved him, if she didn't, he could cause loss or he could be loss. It was for her, because of her.

And Leia was clueless. "I just don't want you to realize something the moment you think you're going to lose it. That's not fair. To you or him." Luke exhaled from his nose. That was all he was going to say on it. He was trying to become a Jedi. He had his own growing up to do. If he ever became a Master, and those two were still acting like idiots, gods forbid, then maybe one day he'd hit them over their heads. But right now she was too good with words and Han was too good with a blaster.

Leia crossed her arms over her chest, eyes stormy, and Luke wanted to laugh and lighten the moment and tell her how wonderful she was, but he heard steps that meant the captain was coming to helm the ship. Leia jumped up and went back to the nav'puter.

"How's Chewie?" Luke asked.

Leia still stood, half an arm's length away from the nav'puter's entry board, eyes looking off in a corner and her lips parted. Waiting.

"Yelled at me for wakin' him up, so I guess he's doing alright," Han said, a small worry hiding in the back of his eyes. He stopped on the way to his seat, noting Leia in his path. _Suave_ , Luke thought. Not really in his way, but still, in his way.

Han took a tentative step, and when she didn't move, continued their dance. He placed his large hand on her forearm and moved behind her, saying in a low voice that probably passed breath at the nape of her neck, "'Scuse me, Sweetheart."

Luke counted one second, two. Leia squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath. Han's fingers barely touched along her back, and then he was in his seat. Luke remained motionless.

"I've set course for Hoth," Leia announced to Han, avoiding looking at Luke and taking Chewie's copilot seat. "Chewie needs deeper treatments for the internal damage. Will he go in the tank?"

Han flicked his eyes at Luke, who was thinking again, _suave, Leia._ Make it about the Wookiee. "I'll hit him with a tranquilizer dart," Han said and Luke broke the spell by laughing.

"I'm actually looking forward to going back," Luke told them.

He sat in the navigator's seat and made noncommittal noises to C-3PO, who had a litany of complaints against Chewie and the _Falcon_ while Master Luke, Mistress Leia and Captain Solo traipsed on strange worlds.

"Traipsed?" Han repeated. "What are you doing, Junior?" he asked, turning back in his seat and finding Luke sitting with his eyes closed, his arms held away from his sides.

"I'm Forcing," Luke murmured, without opening his eyes.

"Oh. He's Forcing," Han told Leia in a loud whisper. "Don't disturb him."

"I won't." There was laughter in her voice.

The Force did not take him, but he found it anyway. Small, not insignificant. He was learning discipline.

He saw Ben with red hair and beard. Ben, sad and worried even back then. He saw Uncle Owen, checking the condensers, a little tow-haired child on his lap, steering. There was nothing to hit in the wide open desert but the boy knew joy and Owen fed it with a tempered humor. Water, fluid and shapeless, harnessed; jug after jug, the Harvest. Loaded onto a repulsor cart, led away to a salesman, Beru placing a hand on Luke's shoulder gently, proudly.

The Force had been there, during his childhood. He hadn't known it for what it was, but he saw it now, like Owen and Beru's bodies prepared him for death.

Luke was ready to return to Hoth and was ready to make it a training ground, for him. He had learned a great deal since Anobis. It was time he learned about himself. To know oneself was to know discipline. That was his first lesson.

He learned he wanted alternatives. To life, war, the Force. He wanted more paths. Win or lose, Light side or Dark, farmer or pilot. He didn't believe it was that clear cut, that simple. This was why Han was here, Luke thought. Han taught him things could be eroded, by attitudes and actions as much as by time. Life was a gamble; something always affected the other and there wasn't only one way to approach it.

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From Anobis to Ord Mantell... Luke wanted to define it, to categorize it with all the other things he had done since leaving Tatooine. It hadn't been a disaster, necessarily.

"Escapade," Han suggested as they made their descent.

The little planet of Hoth, sixth and so far away from it's sun, was tinier than he remembered it, three weeks and a life time ago.

"No," Luke said, pleased that he could laugh. "That definitely doesn't describe it."

"Mission," Leia said.

"I suppose..." Luke trailed off.

"It was," she insisted.

"Just Anobis," Han corrected. "We created the Wheel escapade on our own."

Luke chuckled again. "It was not an escapade."

"Adventure?" Leia said, though she sounded as though she didn't think it fit.

"No...," Luke gave it consideration. "Adventure seems like it should be hard, but fun, too, when you look back on it." He thought of the Death Star, which in some ways had been very hard, losing Ben, Leia imprisoned, but amidst all the running around and shooting, there were moments. Leia calling Chewie a walking carpet, Han complaining about a smell, Luke shrieking in pretend horror that they had set a Wookiee loose in the detention center.

The Death Star had been about finding oneself and forging bonds. Ord Mantell was prospective loss and the fight to hold on.

"Trial," Leia settled on with satisfaction.

"Yeah, I like trial," Luke decided.

"How much you wanna bet the speeders aren't working?" Han said.

"They better be," Leia sniffed.

"I'm with Han," Luke said. "I bet they're not."

They went through the acclimation chute after landing, and in the narrow dark space Luke didn't allow Ord Mantell to come with him. They were already dressed for the cold. Leia was back in her Council leader snow suit; Luke in the padded khaki jacket, Chewie stepping carefully and growling in the back of his throat.

"I'll get a repulsor cart you can ride on, then," Han threatened. "But you're going to medical."

Chewie made another noise, and Luke smiled. The great Wookiee was whining.

"Yes, you're going in the tank," Han answered. "I don't care you think it's slimy."

"I agree with your captain, Chewie," Leia granted. "You need some quality care. You slept most of the way back."

"And we'll be sure to wave at you," Han continued, "while you're soaking in that gunk, from outside, where it's nice and dry."

Their mood was light. It was surprising to actually feel happy to be back on Hoth, but it was kind of a homecoming. Rogue Squadron greeted Luke with a shower of tossed socks.

"I see the culture has not changed," Leia murmured disapprovingly. "I'll see you two at the debrief," she gave the two men a curt nod and moved off, a small stack of flimsis tucked under her arm.


	24. Dreams

_Once upon a time,_ the Force began for Luke.

Yes, start at the beginning, Luke thought.

Just where was that, he wondered? Would the Force show him the moment a being learned to manipulate it? Or-

He saw heat waves, and stopped his mind from questioning. Sand, and heat waves; the air shimmering, like a force field, a barrier; dancing and blurring. The suns were setting.

Luke let the scene play out, not stopping it, his lips forming the word, "home", a longing sadness enveloping him.

A man strode quickly, the evening wind pulling at his robes. He was carrying something, looking down at it, making sure the wind and the heat and his stride weren't bothering his parcel. Not a parcel. Something, swathed in blankets, a bundle. A baby.

The man was weary, exhausted as much in spirit as in body. Robes blackened, his red beard sooty.

Ben was carrying Luke.

 _My beginning,_ Luke thought. _Once upon a time there was an orphaned baby boy._

"She named him Luke," Ben told his Aunt Beru. _My mother. Ben's talking about my mother._ "Her last act before she died. She'd want her child safe."

Beru nodded, taking the bundled baby from Ben and looking wonderingly into his face. _Look at her._ It hit Luke how young she was. Fresh-faced and sweet. _My Aunt Beru._ A lump was in his throat.

Owen was approaching. Joining his wife for the suns set, Luke knew. Her favorite time of day. But the desert was not a place to stroll alone at night.

Ben's eyes raised to Owen, and he seemed to choose his words carefully. "Anakin is... gone as well. I'm sorry." Ben needed comforting at this moment, not Owen. "The child needs a home," Ben continued in a broken voice. "He needs his father's family."

Owen looked at Ben, his expression troubled. He put his arm around his wife, sealing their family off from Ben. "His mother, Shmi, lived here," he informed Ben, letting him know that Anakin and Owen were not family. "She was my stepmother. What of the baby's mother?"

Not, Luke saw, as in _why don't you bring the baby there. We'd rather not._ But as in, _obviously you just took the baby from the arms of his dead mother. Surely there is more family to tell of the birth._

Beru was adjusting the swaddling blankets, pulling to reveal the baby Luke's face. _I'm asleep,_ Luke noted. Her finger touched his cheek and both the baby and the man reacted, one's lips squirming, the other's cheek leaning into her touch.

"You may not have heard yet," Ben explained, sweeping his eyes across the desert. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has declared himself Emperor." Beru gasped. "He has ordered the Jedi killed. Any Force sensitive child is in danger."

"L-luke?" Beru said, and Luke smiled, hearing her test out the name of her new nephew for the first time.

"Killed?" Owen said. "You too, then? Where will you go?"

Ben nodded. "I need to hide, it is true. I will stay here for a while. Nearby. I will not be a bother to you. But I want to make sure the baby, and you, because of him, are safe from Palpatine. And," Ben covered his face with one hand, "I'd like to stay close to Luke." His voice was muffled through his fingers. "I think his mother would have wanted that, that he's not completely an orphan. That he retains a connection to his parents."

"He is at his grandmother's home," Owen said, a little defiantly. Two men fighting over the role of father. Owen moved closer to Beru, so that baby Luke's feet touched against his belly through the blankets. Ben was in no shape to counter Owen. He simply nodded.

"Would you like to spend the night?" Beru asked kindly, tucking Luke into her arms more securely and shifting her feet. _And then be on your way. If we are to be a family, then let us start it quickly, on our own,_ Luke knew she was thinking.

"No, I cannot," Ben said politely. "Thank you."

"There's an abandoned 'stead," Owen told Ben. "Across the Wastes." He shrugged indifferently. "Don't know what shape it's in, but it's shelter. You'd reach it before dark." He struggled with himself a moment. "I didn't know Anakin," he finally said. "He came once. He seemed to know something had happened to Shmi. His mother."

"Yes, I know she was killed by Tuskan Raiders," Ben said, and Luke nodded into the Force. It was a lesson drummed home by Owen about the dangers of the desert. _My stepmother went to pick mushrooms._

"He..." Owen struggled some more, pressing his lips together. He hadn't liked Anakin, Luke realized. Even then. "He was angry at us. For letting it happen. For not doing enough. For everything."

"I see," Ben said quietly.

"It was hard on us. Harder." Years of resentment poured out. "He was away. He never came. She missed him." But Anakin passed one thing on to Owen, Luke saw. That's why he joined his wife at suns set. Because he had to do more. _My stepmother went to pick mushrooms. And she never came back._ "For whatever told him, if it was from being a Jedi -"

"The Force."

"Whatever it was that told him his mother was in trouble, he didn't do enough either. So, for," his chin pointed to the baby, "for him, for Luke. I don't want you, while you're here... you say you'll keep us safe? I don't think you can. I think, because you're a Jedi, the danger you think there is for him, for being like his father, is because you'll be near. And it won't be enough. So-

"I understand," Ben almost bowed. "Thank you," he said again. "I'm sorry. For the loss your family has suffered. For..." he looked at sleeping Luke. "I hope I have not burdened you."

Beru turned, still gazing at Luke. "No. He is our nephew. A child is not a burden."

 _And the Lars family took Luke Skywalker as their own._

 _Thank you, Beru,_ Luke thought. _Thank you, Owen._

 _Once upon a time,_ the Force continued, and Luke thought, _oh_ , because he thought the lesson was done.

A man was walking, briskly, outside, carrying something carefully in his arms. He was dressed regally, expensively, and the backdrop matched his clothing. A majestic view, Luke saw. Breathtaking. The man strode to a woman on a bench. Her appearance was elaborate, from the fullness of her black gown to the intricacy of her hair.

 _Her hair,_ Luke noted. _Alderaan. Leia._ In a way she looked just like her mother, though that was not possible. But their hair was the same.

He felt the weight of tradition. Ben had brought him to his grandmother's home and Leia arranged her hair as her mother had taught her.

Was Leia born on Alderaan? She had the dark hair, like the refugees they met on Vrakith IV. Her adoptive parents' hair was dark.

Leia's hair. Long and traditional. Han paid attention to it. Han liked it, the way she liked his eyes. But more, now that Luke was forced to pay attention, Han's eyes always flicked quickly above her face, to look at her hair, and he decided at that moment how to behave around her, based on her hairstyle.

Luke frowned. Was this important? Did Han understand something Luke had missed about Leia's hair? How did it relate to the vision of the two babies? To Luke it was part of an outfit, not much more. Like _what shoes shall I wear today_ , if one was lucky enough to own more than one pair of shoes. Luke hadn't been. Han just had the black boots too, and Leia's gray suede were part of the uniform. His pal Biggs was a little vain about his appearance, and on the days he wore his cape, which he'd purchased when he left Tatooine to join the Imperial Academy, he sported gel in his hair. Once he'd even waxed his mustache, but Luke and the others kidded him about him about it so much it was just a one-time fashion experiment.

He'd never thought of it as self-expression, though, as Han did. A reflection of one's mood. It wasn't deliberate, he was sure of that. Leia, whose strength was drawing stories out in others, was not one who allowed herself much introspection. But Han gauged his reaction to her based on how she pinned her hair that day.

Always the Council Leader uniform, that white snowsuit. It was the hair that varied day to to day. Pulled back into buns and she was brusque, all business. She had a speech to write or would sit in a strategy planning session for hours. Braids coiling gracefully she was sociable, her desk clear. Framing her face softly, gentle wisps curling in a caress, and she was wistful. Watch out for the double peaked buns angling off the top of her head though: they looked like horns, and Luke knew to stay out of her way.

And Han had asked once. "So what is that supposed to be?" about her braid, pinned in a serpentine twist all over her head.

She was so pleased he asked. Probably no one did anymore. "The River Aldera," she answered. "The wellspring of life."

"Really," Han had said. "And this?" He put his two fists on top of his head, like horns.

Leia frowned at him. "The mountains." She frowned again. "Two doesn't seem... it's not flattering, is it? Some women fashion four peaks."

"Try four," Han agreed.

A planet's features. Heat waves and sand; mountains and a river.

 _Home._

Luke returned to his Force lesson. "... she named her Leia," the man was telling the woman. "And then she died. It was that sudden."

Breha, for Luke knew who these people were, said tragically, "The poor woman. Which do you think is harder, Bail: to have your children leave you, or you to leave your children? In any case, we are here now for little Leia, and she is here for us.

"Leia," she repeated lovingly after staring at the baby's face a while. She already was Leia's mother, Luke thought. Leia had told him her mother was unable to carry a child but had wanted children. In her heart, she was a mother long before Leia arrived.

Bail and Breha sat outside, holding their new daughter, for she was a daughter while Luke was a nephew. They marveled at her fingers, and her mouth, and how precious and small she was, and didn't say anything about danger.

 _And Bail and Breha named Leia an Organa,_ the Force concluded.

Luke waited. He thought a third scene would unfold. It had been fascinating to see- not his actual birth- but his origins, and Leia's too. She was a huge part of his life, but Han had become so, too, and he figured that's what the lesson was. Hadn't the vision of Darth Vader told him long ago, _keep your friends close?_ So he waited. He had no idea what Corellia looked like, what kind of home Han had, whether any man would place a baby carefully in a woman's arms and say, "She named him Han, before she died." But nothing came.

Why? Luke wanted to know. Why not Han? If this was Luke's story, or even somehow Luke's and Leia's, he knew- _knew_ \- Han played an important role. Leia found her way to Luke as a holomessage, but Han was the one who brought Luke to the flesh and blood Leia.

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General Dodonna had offered a long time ago if there was anything they, the Alliance, could do to help Luke in his Jedi training, he would only have to ask.

So he asked. It was the only way he could think of to navigate past the confines of the Alliance, of the ranking system. Instead of conversations, which he could not enjoy with a superior, he asked for interviews.

The Jedi, or their fall anyway, were linked to the state of the galaxy today. Vader's mysterious emergence, Palpatine's ascension to a throne. Luke sought some understanding of their history, thinking if he understood how, why, he might be able to change things.

 _Was once a pupil of mine…._ Luke asked for Ben again. What _was_ Vader?

Luke thought of him as some sort of creature. That breathing. Obviously needed a life support suit, a bit like the marine humanoid Calamari Luke saw visit the base with Mon Mothma one day. Hoth was too cold for them, and they needed a special uniform. White, like Leia's, only it had built-in heaters for the body and a helmet that sealed at the neck, completely enclosing their heads. It was hard to see their faces, as a bit of water filtered constantly from a bag built in at the chest level, causing a kind of condensation inside their face bowl. They didn't seem to have any vision issues, but it was kind of creepy, watching the tall, webbed-fingered beings stomp carefully around the ice, dressed as white as the ice with a fog substituting for a face.

Rieekan, Dodonna, even Mon Mothma generously set aside time for him. Ben, irritatingly, remained silent, but he'd said Luke needed to learn discipline first, so Luke figured Ben was testing him.

He was nervous around Dodonna and Mothma, unable to get past the authority of rank, but Rieekan set him at ease. These three humans were merely one and two generations away from Luke's. Dodonna and Mothma were old enough to be his grandparents; Rieekan his father. And yet they couldn't tell him much.

None of them had met Darth Vader. "Don't you realize what it would mean if we had, son?" Dodonna had snapped. "Ask the Princess."

"I meant when he was a Jedi. Obi Wan Kenobi's pupil," Luke clarified.

But no one could say who he was. He just appeared, from nowhere Mothma told him, one day at Palpatine's side shortly after the creation of the Empire, before Palpatine dissolved the Senate.

The Jedi were peace keepers, Rieekan told him; negotiators.

"Like Leia," Luke couldn't help observing.

Rieekan smiled sadly. "Her father worked very closely with them."

"Was he Force sensitive?" Luke wanted to know.

"He wasn't."

"Did all those known to have the Force become Jedi?" It seemed to him a bit...presumptuous? Untoward? Because what if a Force sensitive being didn't want to? Would such an attitude even exist? Would it be allowed to exist?

"They became part of the Jedi Order, if identified," Rieekan explained. "If identified, they went to live at the Temple, and studied in the ways of the Force. They followed the mandates of the Jedi Council's interpretation of the Force, which was to serve, protect. To remain apart, above."

 _Hokey religion_ Han had said. Ben had dressed "churchy", Han had described. Han was a child when the Jedi fell, and the Clone army's massacre chilled him, but his attitude wasn't all that friendly towards the Jedi, was it.

"Palpatine feared them?"

"Well, of course," Rieekan murmured obviously. "They were very powerful. In order to consolidate his power, he needed to remove them."

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "And he had Vader do it." Vader, who had been a pupil of Ben's. Vader, who had once been a Jedi. "What would make a Jedi betray the Force like that?"

"Not so much the Force as his own people," Rieekan said. "He still has the Force, doesn't he?"

Ben had told Luke Vader had been seduced by the dark side of the Force."You're saying the Force is capable of evil?"

Rieekan spread his hands. "How else can you account for evil in the galaxy, when something so good supposedly exists?"

"Did the Jedi..." Luke wasn't sure how to put it. "...teach the Force? I mean to others? Besides them. Did they go around and… and preach?"

"It was an exclusionary group. A sect, some thought. The Jedi saw themselves as ones who tried to stop the dark side from emerging, especially in those who weren't Force sensitive."

Protectors, Luke understood. They lived among, and watched and sensed, remaining above so as not to be sucked in to the depravity of life's struggles. "How-?" Luke stopped, becoming troubled. "How did they support themselves? If they lived apart, then they were outside of society, right? Did they receive payment?"

"They weren't supposed to, I don't think. Not financial, the ones who were out of the Temple. They were to be provided for. Food, shelter. That kind of thing. Kindness. Goodness."

No wonder someone like Vader had emerged, Luke thought in wonder. "Were they corrupt?"

Rieekan inhaled largely. "The Order itself, the concept, the ideology, no. But it's all too easy, isn't it? By the end of the Republic, Luke, the government was so vast. War was everywhere, the Jedi spread all over the galaxy, and it became impossible to monitor behavior. Quite possibly, some were. But it was the times," he leaned forward earnestly. "Palpatine was a Senator. As corrupt as they come."

"Thank you, General."

"I hope I was of some help," Rieekan grinned affably.

He was. Luke confirmed to himself what he suspected all along, that Ben was a product of his time, that the Jedi, no matter how hard they tried to stay above and apart, got swept along in a tide of cause and effect. Ben really couldn't be trusted to help Luke, though Luke quickly sent the thought out, in case Ben _was_ testing him, that there was nothing sinister in this. Ben was just one man, Force sensitive maybe, but still just one man, who had hopes and dreams and love, though the Jedi Order told him not to, and then he lost everything.

So much in common with Leia, he thought again for the hundredth time. But for the first time, he thought this: that's why Luke had intercepted Leia's message. Because he was a clean slate. He was not a product of his time but of Tatooine. An Outer Rim territory the Empire did not yet reach, his hard-working, _focused_ Uncle keeping Luke involved, among. _Get your head out of the clouds, boy._

 _You knew, didn't you, Uncle?_

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Outside the stable someone had tacked a new poster. A drawing of the human foot, male by the looks of it. _Have you seen me?_ read the caption, and Luke smiled.

Hoth was a place of extremes. Red alerts and monotony. Meteorites and white, white, white. The wampa were growing bolder. The men grew beards, a fashion trend. Everything got exaggerated.

Han had shaved, Luke noticed first as he looked for a suitable mount. He tried not to let the sight of his clean shaven face disappoint him.

"Oh, I miss your beard," a handler told Han. She was a relatively new recruit. The base was growing, even though Luke constantly heard rumors they would be abandoning it. Luke liked the woman. He thought they had a lot in common, if just in opposites. She was from Kaska, the furthest planet in her system to support life. It was as cold as Tatooine was hot. Not as cold as here, she cheerfully told anyone. This place would kill you.

"It highlighted your eyes," she told Han now.

Luke moved in, feeling oddly protective of Han. Or maybe Leia. It was too cold to be sure. All he knew was Leia was the Hoth that was Echo Base, systematic and procedural, while Han was the wilds outside, stormy and slippery. It was a constant struggle, and when Luke heard rumors the base would be abandoned because conditions were just too difficult here, he would look at Han and Leia, and know it was just a matter of coming to terms.

"Just wait until his nose starts to run," he said, interrupting her banter. Too many, from High Council down, treated Han as a label. Smuggler, low life, one night stand. Han was the one to give them the labels, because that's what he told himself he wanted, but he also got really irritated when he got what he wanted. Luke wasn't sure; Han was complicated and thinking was hard when it was freezing, but maybe Han, after so long now, was irritated at himself for continuing to offer them. Maybe, after so long, he allowed himself to expect more.

Luke recalled his language lesson long ago when he brought up all the rumors he'd heard about Han, of drug use, and petty thievery and wild sexuality. It was superficial. It wasn't Han. Luke knew that, and so did Leia. She knew Han, through and through, so the banter belonged to her. "His crooked nose-" Luke continued.

Han shoved him out of the stable, leading Lucky behind him. "I'll give you a crooked nose," he grumbled with good nature. Maybe he thought flirtatious banter belonged to Leia, too. "You're ruining my image."

"Echoes Three and Seven," the patrol manager assigned, "it's the last shift of the day, so here are your sensors," he handed one to Luke and Han, "and you'll-"

"-check for life forms," Luke finished for him. "We know."

It wasn't snowing, which was odd. They'd been through a second storm season, and had some data to compare, and the scientists said either last year precipitation was very heavy, or this year there was a drought. _One or the other,_ Luke thought. _Take your pick. Maybe they'll decide for sure next year._

"Echo Luke?"

 _If there is a next year._ "Comm check."

"Got you. Check in every thirty, alright?" and Han moved Lucky with a "come on" and headed north.

Han was leaving, Luke knew. The beard was gone. It had only been five minutes, but he comm'd Han. "Echo Seven. Leia seen you yet?"

"You know they're monitoring us, don't you?"

Luke laughed sadly. He'd miss the bastard, he really would.

Han's beard drove Leia crazy. He might have started the fashion trend, at that. Either him or Dodonna. Han's was early on, anyway. Luke remembered a beardless Wedge giving him flack for trying to disguise himself as a Wookiee. And Dodonna always had a beard, since Luke first met him on Yavin. A very full beard, as commanding as the man himself.

But Han's beard was simply because he kept the _Falcon_ mostly shut down. He wouldn't use fuel he'd have to repay the Alliance for. Leia listed all the reasons for his beard. "He's too stubborn, it hides his scar, too independent, it frames his mouth, too cheap..." He wouldn't buy fuel because he was saving to repay what he owed Jabba the Hutt.

But the beard meant he was staying, also. The fuller it grew in the longer he stayed on Hoth, with the Alliance. Not _with_ them, he still hadn't joined, but with them. Bearded, and Leia was more satisfied, smug almost. Her hair in an elegant coil of braids, she let him sit in her office by the generator to warm up. She learned how to play Sabacc, showing up at the _Falcon_ for lessons just as she used to show up for language lessons with Chewie. After a time she managed to win two of Han's socks, and Luke saw them rising out of her gray suede uniform boots, covering the calf of her white snowsuit.

As soon as he got clearance to leave though, because at least he was still contracting for runs, in between making repairs, the first thing he did was shave. Push the button to start the warm up cycle, and head back to the 'fresher. The quickness of it, _the soon as I shave the sooner I get out of here_ was a personal slap to Leia, and she would be waiting for Han on his return.

"What's this?" she would ask, her head lowered to read the inventory stowed on the Falcon, those peaked, angry buns- mountains turned horns- aiming toward Han. "You have permission to take what you need from our parts department."

"Did I miss the gun turrets on the shelf?" Han growled back at her, always annoyed when she acted like he was going behind the Alliance's back. Luke waved his hand trying to use the Force on them. _Behind_ her _back, Han._

So Luke thought now it was time for goodbyes. He reached a gloved finger under his sleeve and used the comm again. "Do you ever think past the war, Han?"

"Whaddya mean?" came his answer, small but clear, and completely surprised Luke was desiring to philosophize rather than report a sector's readings.

"Well, say we win." Han snorted and so did Lucky. Luke smiled. "I know. But say we win, and there's a new government. Have you ever known anything other than the Empire?"

"No. Well, I guess- Palpatine dissolved the Old Republic when I was a kid. But who follows politics when they're a kid? 'Cept Leia, maybe. Get to work, will ya, kid?"

"Alright," Luke sighed, and tucked his comm in his glove, turning the warmers on. He continued his patrol, thinking of the Force lesson and two babies, not three. Because Han was leaving? Was his story, his time with Luke finished? Did it mean he wouldn't survive his return to Jabba?

Later, he initiated contact with Han again. "Going back to what we started talking about," Luke jumped right in. "Leia was telling me how the crime syndicates became more powerful under Palpatine. That the Empire has done little to control them."

"Are you checking your sensors?"

"Yeah. So if we win, and the Empire is dissolved, then the crime syndicates might get broken up. You might be a free man just because."

Now Han sounded suspicious. "What are you saying?" he said. Luke couldn't hold back a smile. "The Royal put you up to this?"

"No," Luke denied truthfully, "she didn't. We were talking about you, true, and your situation, after that hunter... And she was saying how under the New Republic things would be different. She didn't put me up to ask you to stay."

"Good. Because that would be the wrong approach."

"I suppose? There's an approach?" Luke said. "She says the magic word and you'll stay?"

He knew Han was grinning. "It might be as easy as that."

Luke began to feel irritated. He yanked on the reins, and the tauntaun garbled. "It's not a game, Han. You can't make everything a game."

"Who says I do?" Luke heard Lucky making noises in the background. "You think that hunter was a game?"

"No." Luke resumed patrol, irritation giving way to helplessness. "No, it definitely wasn't."

"And I haven't been playing games staying here."

"I know. Fine, I'll drop it. Echo Three, out." And Echo Seven, too, by the looks of it. He had a few more check-ins with Han, but they didn't talk about anything other than what their sensors were picking up. Luke was still wondering what the magic word was when-

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He woke up standing, looking down at his feet. _There's not enough life on this ice cube to-_

He looked around, his boots rooted to the spot. What happened, he thought. He'd never heard of anyone's boots getting stuck in ice before.

White, but no sky. So back at base? He'd stepped off the durocrete? What had he been doing? His head hurt, terribly, and one eye felt crusted shut. Must be the ship crash again. He thought that was finished. Hadn't they returned to Hoth? Months ago, he thought. He remembered beards and waiting out the storm season, hammering out a dent for Han on the-

It didn't look like Ord Mantell. It looked like Hoth. Yes, this was Hoth. Why had he forgotten? Had he gotten hurt? What was he wearing? He looked at his pants. Not orange. Not flying, then. Why wasn't it snowing?

Finally, recollection returned. On patrol. Placing sensors measuring life form readings. And Han- _not enough life to-_ headed in. Where was his mount? _I'll see you shortly._

Shit.

He wasn't standing. He was- the realization filled him with horror- thrust, into the ceiling, of a cavern. Feet first. He was upside down! No wonder his head hurt. A... lair. He tried to free his feet, wriggling like prey caught in a trap. Which he was. How did he get up here?

His tauntaun was not nearby that he could see. Maybe it had run off.

 _You smell something?_ Yes. His mount had been agitated, and the last thing he could recall was a shadow. Close, and large, blocking out the sky.

Wampas hunted tauntauns. Where was-

Shit and more shit. A wampa was nearby, squatting, mouth, fingers and chest hair splattered with blood. Eating.

Luke felt sick. _I have to get out of here. I'm in a wampa lair and he's going to eat me._

His pack, his lightsaber. He touched his head and saw he at least had his hat. The wampa noticed his movement, growled.

 _Don't die like this,_ he told himself. _No. Not now._

He couldn't feel his feet. He thought bitterly of the poster. _Have you seen me?_ Yes! his mind shouted in his head. Yes! Help!

The wampa stood. _Get out! How? Run! How?_

 _Do something. Just -_ The wampa growled. _Do something!_ Luke tried to move his legs, felt his knees twist painfully. There had to be something. Something he could do, something he could use. _Use the Force, Luke._

A memory. _Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he used the Force._

The creature approached. Gods, it was fearsome looking. Jagged teeth, so much blood covering white. His stupid brain with its incessant chatter- did they groom? _Shut up, Luke._ _The tauntaun. Come on. Focus. You don't want to die like this!_

 _Is this my test? Ben? This is bad. The stupidest test you can give. Please. I'm telling you, I'll work hard. Please. Ben!_

 _The Force will be with you, always._

A memory. Not Ben's voice. Always. _Force._ Luke closed his eyes, tried to shut out the noise of the approaching wampa. _Do this, and you'll live. Do it._

He imagined his lightsaber flying into his outstretched hand, but the wampa seemed to anger every time Luke moved, and he lost focus, its movements, its noises distracting him. His body swung back from its hanging position, and the blood throbbed in his head and eye. _Ben, why are you trying to kill me?_

 _Are you just going to let me die?_

He forced himself to relax, closed his eyes. The wampa came closer, so that the air seemed to warm around him, but he concentrated on the image of the lightsaber. _Don't panic. Ben won't let you die. You have the Force. It's a test, just a test. He'll help if you fail. If you fail, he'll - forget about me? Find someone more worthy?_

 _Leia._

The lightsaber leaped and his hand closed around the hilt. He activated it at once, slashing at the ceiling to free his feet and falling to the ground. The wampa yowled in a fury.

Free, on the ground, with a lit lightsaber, and Luke panicked. He swung wildly, thinking only _get out. Run!_ The wampa roared again, not a death roar. Injured. _Runrunrun_ he coaxed himself, _you have your feet, run,_ and stumbled out into the snow. He ran blindly a few moments, only thinking to breathe, and fell down a bluff. He got to his feet.

 _My pack. I need my pack._ He looked behind him, up the bluff. Snow was only just starting to fall but the wind was bad, obliterating any view but snow. He couldn't even see the bluff.

 _Should I go back?_ The wampa would be out, looking for him, able to smell him, so perfectly blended with the snow Luke would never see it. _But my pack._

His lightsaber was useless now. But he lit it, as if the blue light could cut through the swirling snow, direct him. Luke adjusted his face cloth and walked, surprised he lurched unsteadily.

No pack, nothing a saber could help with. Out in the snow, no knowledge where, which direction. _I'm so stupid. I panicked._ On it's own, the blue light left.

His comm. "Echo Three to Echo Base." Cold was in his lungs, his voice was barely audible. "Echo Base, do you copy?"

His comm sounded like a snowstorm.

Shit.

He was in deep, deep trouble. No pack, no contact. Just him and the weather, steadily worsening. How long had he been in the lair? He made himself move forward, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. The last patrol. Night. Storms. Wampas and cold.

Ben's test. It was more than freezing. A test. Make it through the cold. _You passed the first part. Not well, maybe, but you're out. Here, where, but you're out._ Fumbling. Did he have his lightsaber? Hands moving, blocks of ice so big he didn't know what he touched.

He should go back. Finish the wampa. The lair was sheltered at least. Wait until morning. He stopped, squinted his eyes. Where was it? Which way? He closed his eyes and looked... for life, for pain and blood. _This way._

See _you shortly._ Who was his patrol partner today? ... Han. Would Han notice he wasn't back? Why was Han back before Luke anyway? _Meteorite that fell near here._ Oh, right. He didn't remember if he checked it out. He hoped that's what it was.

Han would go back to the _Falcon._ Get back to work. Luke fell to his knees. _I didn't know I was falling._ He lay panting. _Han. I need help._ Han, who got lost in repairs, forgetting to eat or go to bed, who lost track of time. Who had shaved and needed to talk to the Princess.

 _How do I get back?_ Luke forced himself to his feet. He couldn't feel anything; not his feet, his hands, his mouth, except for his cheek and eye, which felt like they stretched inches past his face, into the ice. _The handlers. Patrol manager. They'll notice, don't worry._

 _But where? How would they find him? The lair - who knew where the hells he'd been dragged to._

 _I'm not gonna die. I'm not. See Ben?_ He fell on his face again. _I'm..not. I'm..._ He could barely lift his head. ... _disciplined. I-_

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The sensation of being dragged again, of snow going up his back, woke him up. The wampa had found him, was dragging him back to his lair. The test needed to end, before Luke did.

"Ben..."

He heard a familiar hum. The wampa could use a lightsaber? "Ben..."

The wampa stuck him inside something, to preserve him? drag him somewhere? "Dagobah..."

It was horrible, Luke wanted to gag but it was warm, cooling fast. Weird textures, sensation, unheard of things. "Yoda..."

 _'Til I can get the shelter built._ Ben!

"Ben..." He wasn't going to die. Why would Ben give him a mission just before he died? Ben was coming. He failed the test, but Ben would save him. "Ben..."

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One eye could open. One eye saw a faint light, a curved ceiling. Tatooine then. Ben brought him back to his home. "Ben."

Sandstorm outside, howling winds. Why Tatooine? Why not straight to... to..."Dagobah."

"Don't know why you keep mentioning that swamp," a wry voice spoke, loud and next to him.

"Ben." Luke felt relieved, so happy, so cared for.

"Try again."

Ben's voice, smooth, a little edgier than he remembered, unhappy. He hadn't seen Ben in a while, to look at him, and tried to put a face with the voice. Ben, bearded, eyes blue, twinkling with humor... a broad face, young, "Ben?"...

"Nope."

... scarred, eyes gray. "Yoda."

"Who?" That voice, rising with incredulity and worry, testing him. A test.

He failed, evidently, but he didn't care. It was over, and Ben- "Ben"- _shut up with Ben already, kid -_ he was under a blanket, green eyes? still far from warm, but better, better.

He moved his eye. "Han..."

A feeble light moved over his face and Luke groaned in complete misery.

"Sorry, that bother you?" Han held a emergency glow rod up. "Where's your pack?"

"Han..." Poor Han, dead too. After all this. He wanted to wave his hand but couldn't. "... wampa get you?"

"Is that what happened to you?"

 _"_ I failed." There, he spoke. He didn't recognize his own voice. Han was here, not Ben. Ben, who vanished every time Luke disappointed him.

"Better to be stuck with me than a ghost, don't you think?"

He had failed the test. He sank with disappointment. He would just give up. There was no point. And the blanket was warm at least. It was a nicer way to die.

"Hey. Answer me."

"Don't..."

"Luke."

"...sorry."

Han sounded insulted. "Don't you dare."

"Ben..."

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He had been dreaming. Forcing? Of water. The unknown. Water always scared him. Sheltiv, leaping, watching from up high, where he couldn't get wet. "Water..."

"You thirsty? That's a good sign. I melted some snow just for the occasion."

"Dagobah..."

"Yeah, I know. Dagobah. Careful, now."

A throat, shadowed by day's end, the beard threatening to emerge again. Something snaking under Luke's neck, and he shuddered. "Easy, kid. Just me. Sit up, so you can drink." An arm, behind his head, pulling him upwards. Luke groaned, though the effort had not been his. It just hurt so damn much.

The warm snow - "warm?"

"Glad you're warming up."

"No, I smell..." Luke fell silent, absorbing the quiet company. "Where are we?"

"Not sure."

"I mean, where. This Ben's?"

"No. It's the shelter." Han's face was peering with intense scrutiny over him. "You never came back from patrol."

"Patrol," Luke echoed. "Patrol. Are you in my Force lesson? Is Ben here?"

"It's Hoth, kid. Just - be quiet. Stop thinking. It's just you and me and the cold."

That's right, Luke remembered. Han was Hoth. The cold and the ice, wampa and tauntaun. Something was missing. "Where's Lucky?"

Han's eyes lowered, still on Luke's face, but not looking at him. "She's outside," he said quietly.

"Oh. I smell her. Bring her in. Is there room?" He tried to sit up, take up less space.

Han pushed him back down. "Let her be."

"I never came back?"

"No."

"I never... Is it final then? I'm dead? Where are you bringing me now? To Ben?"

"I'm not bringing you anywhere. We're stuck here for the night. There's no Ben. Stop talking about him."

"He was here."

"No he wasn't. He's the one that's dead, not you."

"But he - I-" Luke stopped. He felt so overwhelmingly confused. "He wants me to do something."

"Yeah? Lemme see your hands."

Luke felt the blanket leave his chest and he moaned. "No, don't-" There was a tugging on his hand. "Ow. Ow, stop." It didn't really hurt. Really Luke couldn't feel his hand at all. He was more scared. Which hurt in its own way. He closed his good eye. "I want Ben."

"No you don't. He's dead, you're not."

"Ben, I'm ready."

"Stay with me, Luke. You're not gonna die."

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He was being dragged again. Something had him under the armpits. He tried to fight it off. _Damn wampas._

"Easy, kid, easy. Just me- would you stop fighting me already?"

No claws, a rough and tender hold. "Han."

"Yes, damn it. Stay still."

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to stay warm. You're cold, I'm cold." The blanket came over Luke's chin. Something lumpy and soft, warmer than snow but not much, under him.

"Am I sitting on you?"

"If you had your pack we'd have an extra blanket. I can't feel my ass." Strong arms wrapped across Luke's chest. "That better?"

"Yeah." He felt warmer. "My face hurts."

"I bet it does."

"I just want..."

"Stay awake if you can."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Luke,_ Ben called. They were on Tatooine, strolling among the rocks near the Wastes. The suns were shining and it was grandly warm, so warm.

"I fear I may have waited too long," Ben said. Luke walked beside the man, as real as he was.

"Was it a test?" _Am I real?_ he wondered.

"It wasn't meant to be."

"Oh. So it was me? Being stupid?"

Ben smiled gently. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You aren't the first a wampa attacked. Hoth is a dangerous place."

"I'll say. Won't the wampas get us here?"

Ben looked at him sharply. "You mean the Sand People."

"I'm on Hoth."

"Very good," Ben sounded pleased. "You can disassociate. Captain Solo has taken good care of you."

"When should I go to Dagobah?"

"As soon as you can get away." Ben waved a hand and Tatooine disappeared.

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Luke groaned. "Dagobah..."

"Ssh," a hand tugged on Luke's hat.

"Han? Are you still here?"

There was a rueful chuckle. "Ain't going anywhere. What's all this about Dagobah? You been studying my charts?"

"Huh?"

"Dagobah. It's a place. Planning a vacation, kid?"

"It's real?"

"Oh, so Ben is real, but what he tells you is fake?"

Han had a point, Luke thought. "Yoda is there."

"Whatever a Yoda is. I don't think it's colonized."

"Who's Yoda?"

"You said it, not me. Look, I'm not gonna talk to you anymore. You're creeping me out. Just rest and be quiet." Han gave a huge sigh as he sat against the shelter wall.

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A noise woke him up. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't Han, who periodically adjusted the blankets around him. It was him, Luke, groaning.

"Uh," he moaned. They were still in the shelter. "How long we been here?"

Han moved his wrist. "Coupla hours. Got lots to go yet. And I've got to pee. My bladder's talkin' to me just like the old man paid you a visit."

He hadn't come back from patrol... Ben had appeared, not just his voice, but all of him. Luke was looking at him, his arm outstretched, gripping snow. Trying to move in it and he couldn't feel any part of his body. "Freezing," he said aloud.

"I know," Han answered resentfully. "I wish you had your pack."

"I was-" Luke thought. "The snow was covering me. That's why Ben came."

"Wasn't much help, was he?"

"I went to check a meteorite," Luke remembered lucidly now. "I never did. I hope it was nothing."

"Probably was."

"And then all of a sudden a wampa was on me. It-" Suddenly Luke saw it. How his tauntaun reared, his feet in the ceiling... And he escaped in a panic, without his pack, and stumbled out into the storm. And now he was in a shelter. He'd been found. "How'd you find me?"

"I have no fucking idea."

"It was Ben. He brought you. So I can go to Dagobah."

"I'm not bringing you to Dagobah," Han groused. "I'm going to Tatooine."

"I wish you wouldn't. I worry about it. The death mark."

"That's the bounty. The actual amount is not deadly. Expensive, but not fatal."

"What if he does kill you, though?"

"Then I die."

"And Chewie, too."

"I made a bad bet," Han said. "Chewie did, too, when he bet on me. Time to pay up."

Luke closed his eyes, wanting to argue, wanting to offer alternatives. Han sounded final. "I'll come with you."

Han snorted. "No, you won't. Chewie's bad enough. I got it covered."

"You're giving Jabba the _Falcon_ , aren't you? That's why you're fixing her up."

Behind him, Han shrugged. "He'll take her anyway. Figure if I offer her first, in good condition..." he shrugged again.

"You'd just let her go like that?"

"The moment I decided that crashing her into the ocean was my best option," Han started to say, and paused. "I don't know. Made most things look a lot different."

Luke really wished pain and cold and fatigue hadn't drained him so much. He hadn't ever heard Han be so open. But maybe Han counted on the pain and cold and fatigue. "Did you tell Leia?"

"Pff," Han said in self-disgust.

"It didn't go well?" Luke guessed.

"Let's put it this way, she didn't offer to come with me."

"Hm." Luke thought back to his Force vision. His and Leia's beginnings were so similar... "If only I knew what you were like as a baby."

"What?" Han said in a confused laugh.

"I had a..." Luke himself stopped himself from saying more. Because what did he know? Not much at all. He knew he was a nephew and he knew Leia was adopted by a queen. But he already knew that. "The Old Republic," Luke said. "Once upon a time."

"What?" Han said again. "Kid, you're sounding delirious. Try and rest."

"The Old Republic died, too."

"No more, kid."

"Once upon a time, they all lived," Luke said, fighting panic, "and now every single one of them is dead. Do you realize that? What about-"

Han was shaking him by the shoulders gently, his eyes reflected in the weak light of the glow lamp. "Luke. Luke, stop."

"That's the lesson. The lesson is Death. The less-"

"Luke!"

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It seemed lighter in the shelter. Luke's lips felt huge. "Coming on morning, huh?"

"Yeah," Han agreed. "They'll be startin' a search."

"Hopefully."

"Can't have Red Five lost. Your timing could have been better. Speeders were scheduled to be tested in two days, you know."

"P'ly wouldn't work anyway."

Han let out one chuckle.

"I'm sorry about Leia, though."

"That's just the now," Han said, the morning bringing back his optimism. "If I get free of Jabba maybe I'll take Rieekan up on that offer of lieutenant. Then we'll see the hair come down. I'm gonna move you, okay? I want to see if I get a signal."

"I can move."

A gloved hand gestured in front of Luke. "By all means."

Luke tried. His head tried to explode and he had no idea where his legs were. "Shit," he said.

"I'll give you the day off," Han told him. He lowered Luke's head off his own body and stood unsteadily. "Crap, I cant feel a thing." He dropped to his knees and crawled out of the shelter.

It was quiet in the shelter without Han, and colder. Luke focused on trying to be helpful. He managed to raise a hand and waved it in the air. When Han came back in, he said, "Hey Han, have you seen my hand?"

"What-"

"The poster."

"Oh. Are you trying to be funny?"

"I am." Luke couldn't smile. But it was in his voice. "Hoth's crazy like that. When you're near death, you joke."

"Guess you won't die then, kid, 'cause that wasn't funny."

"So they're coming? I can sleep?"

"Sure, kid. Take a nap. I'll wake you when they come."

Luke dreamed of his funeral. How everyone was gathered in the hangar and the Rogues played cards while Dodonna talked over engine noise. Leia dropped a sock on his casket and leaned heavily into Han, sobbing. Her parents and Beru and Owen were all fighting for room in the coffin. The atmosphere was noisy, disorganized, irreverent.

Ben was angry with him, and treated him as if he were alive, saying, "if you hadn't gone and died..." and he'd gesture out at the galaxy angrily.

Luke's first thought, when he came to in the bacta tank and saw Leia and Han anxiously watching him, was _Liar._ Han hadn't woken him.


	25. Time

He had hours. Hours and hours. To think. To-

He was crying.

He wiped a hand under his nose.

Real tears, since he couldn't remember how long. Tears he'd wanted to let fall, for Owen and Beru. For Ben. But there was never time.

 _Luke it's too late!_

Too late to go back. To go - _back._

Leia. It's what she called out to him when they witnessed Ben being cut down, and Luke had yelled "No!" as if denying it would make it less real. Had she whispered _no_ or _it's too late_ when the planet killer's laser headed toward Alderaan?

It was too late for Hoth, and he cried for the snow that turned black and the wampas trapped when the concussion of the thudding steps of Imperial Walkers collapsed their lairs. For ice that turned to steam, for the tauntauns stampeding over the ridge. For Lucky, because he'd been in shock or under sedation and he was only just now understanding what must have happened. Luke had passed body after body of infantry, stiff with cold, but it was too late to dispose of them properly, and he tried to remember each one, because someone had to.

He cried because he wasn't dead and when his remaining squadron members flew off, he wouldn't go with them.

He hadn't even told Leia.

She would mourn him, and he felt so bad. Not like she did her father; for she knew what had happened to him. She'd never know about Luke; he never told her. He'd tried, gotten so far as to open his mouth and say, "Leia" but his courage left him, and she would say, "what?" with a smile, and "what" again, with a laugh, and a touch, and a _come on, you can tell me anything_ but he couldn't. And now, when she arrived at the rendezvous site and pored over the check-ins, she would see the pilots' names lost at the Battle of Hoth – Hobbie's, and Dak's, and others- but not Luke's, and she would await him, but he would never arrive just the same. She would think of those moments while she cried for him, how he wanted to say something, and she would think _is that why?_ but she would never know and her grief would turn to anger, and she'd make herself forget about him.

Fresh tears filled his eyes, blurring the streak of hyperspace.

R2D2 beeped from his position in the back of the X-Wing, but no translation came up on his screen. It was enough, though, to pull him out a little, to stem the flow of tears.

He'd rather have blood to staunch, but he was starting to realize he rarely got what he wanted.

 _It's easier to die,_ he thought. Hobbie, going down in a brightness of fire, disappointment and pain.

Hobbie's part was done. There was no more.

Except Luke could still see him, playing the part of tauntaun while Janson rode on his back, Wedge narrating, _the part of Han Solo today played by Wes Janson. Featuring Dak Ralter as Luke Skywalker. We come upon our hero face down in the snow…._

Kicking them out of his recovery room, angrily embarrassed.

Dak was gone, too.

He saw Hobbie the tauntaun, laughing, the same time he saw Hobbie's speeder hit the Imperial Walker, and he couldn't connect the two, like they were separate people, like the tauntaun actor was forever, and the fatal crash happened over and over again.

 _Do you know that, Ben? Do you know it's easier to die? You must know that. Were you unable to kill your pupil when he turned to the dark side, or did you let him live, bitter and unhappy, knowing you lived too?_

 _But you had your share of death. My mother and father and all those Jedi. So you were ready to die when you faced Darth Vader. Because it was easier than anything else you've done._

 _And you put all that on me._

He shouted in the cockpit into the silence, lifted his knees and slammed his feet down in utter, complete frustration.

 _I hate you!_

All- the Empire definitely, the lot of them; Moffs and troopers and pilots and the Emperor. Ben, for the expectations and riddles and obligation that Luke didn't know he never wanted. Darth Vader of course because Luke never would have hated if it weren't for him. Hobbie, for dying so easily and being free.

Hobbie, who played the part of a tauntaun.

A sound escaped Luke, a harsh, bitter sob.

He had not died. So many opportunities. Death was always there, offering itself. _Come on, Luke. It'll be easy._ Yavin. The dianoga in the garbage masher. The snow storm on Hoth. He hadn't known. He kept fighting it, putting it off, _not this way, not now._

But like Hobbie, he'd be done. Free. No such thing as embarrassment in death, when you froze to death like an idiot. Just nothing. And it would be left to Leia to cry and despair _why_ and see how much easier it was until she went along with Death one day, too.

He straightened from his slump against the ship's wall. _Is this what you're leading to, Death?_ Not his Leia. No- if he was dead, free and unencumbered by living thoughts, and he saw her come toward him, happy in reunion, happy in death, _Luke, look – me too! Isn't it wonderful?_ He'd frown like Uncle Owen when Luke missed his curfew and he'd take her firmly by the wrist and throw her back in with the living and say _oh no you don't. You get back out there._

This lifted his spirits a little, to imagine that he, dead Luke, could override Death. What about when Han joined him, he thought next, if Luke didn't join him first?

Han would completely reject it, he knew right away, just be outraged. _The fuck I'm dead,_ he'd proclaim angrily. Dead Han would look around, highly offended, and wonder why Luke was just tolerating this. _You just gonna sit there, kid?_ Han would see Death's barrier that separated the living and he would bang and curse and yell and insist he be allowed to leave until Death threw him out, unable to want to tolerate someone so… difficult.

And still followed by Chewie, Luke saw, which made him almost smile. Chewie wouldn't mind death. To him life was orderly and death was earned, even if by a snow storm, but if Han Solo didn't want to be dead right now, well, best stay with him and help him stay out of trouble.

A life in protest. Luke had never really considered Han in that way before, but it was true. Han's life, by Death's standards, was small and insignificant, and probably easily caught. One's actions made one's own death, was Life's philosophy, but Han completely rejected that. _Life's a cheater_ , Han declared. The gambler. _Deal me another hand. I'm playing again._

He felt exhausted. He hadn't managed to die again. Hadn't managed to do much, except tell Wedge _you'll have to take this sh-_ He forced an end to the thought. It wasn't helping.

Wedge was alive, he reminded himself. His Co-commander and bunk mate. He'd made a good shot. And Luke had done something - he had zipped his speeder over to the farther Imperial Walker shooting crossfire, the one that got Dak, to protect Wedge. He closed his swollen eyes and the blue arcing of electricity in his speeder cockpit seared behind the lids, and he opened them again.

Hoth was lost. The Empire had found them, after all. The evacuation alarm rang just as he was thinking of taking a nap.

Ancestor Luke, in his chair, telling stories, lucky to be there, would skip over the battle. It was war, there were supposed to be battles. That wasn't the interesting part of the story. He was a fighter pilot; it's just who he was, like anyone waking up in the morning to go to work. The maneuvers, the strategy- _how did you take the ATATs down, Ancestor Luke?-_ none of that mattered - _we used our harpoons and tow cables-_ none of that was important. It was the lives, and his friends, and the damage- gods, the _damage-_ that he would want to talk about.

He passed a hand over his jaw, remembering how chunks of ice were starting to fall from the ceilings of Echo Base. Words as he ran by ... _not meant to win... hope it collapses on the Emperor himself... The first transport is away..._ Han, solemnly handsome: "Be careful."

Spent. _You, too._ His eyes felt puffy and he couldn't breathe out of his nostrils. The _Falcon_ sailing out of the hangar, Luke's heart brimming at the sight. Beat up and rough, like her crew, but dependable, and ... the best, Luke thought. Like her crew.

Han had to be thinking like Luke now. Like there was too much at stake, too much unknown. Fluttering misery in his gut. _You never joined and I never resigned, but we're both leaving. I don't know where I'm going and you don't know what's ahead._

 _But good luck, Han. I mean it. I hope you come through this. I don't see how you can, I-_

New tears. Because it was all so hopeless, everything, and he'd gotten a good goodbye from Han, the best he ever offered. "Be careful."

What about Leia? Had he a chance to repair what he'd done in Luke's recovery room? It was easy, when there was no evacuation yet and Han thought Luke's destiny still followed Leia's, and she wouldn't be alone; easy to leave mad and easy to make her mad. Easy, when he hadn't laid course yet for Tatooine, hadn't made facing Jabba a reality yet. Easy to lie to himself then, _I'll come back,_ because no one accepted being murdered. Not Beru or Owen, coughing and crawling through their burning home, telling themselves as they burned and died, _if I can just get out of here._ Not Alderaan. And definitely not Han, who would land in the realm of Death and protest, "the fuck I'm dead. Lemme out."

Sometimes Han took the easy route, and sometimes he fought as hard as he could.

Would he tell her he loved her?

He should, Luke thought. But he couldn't, because then he'd never leave.

What was Leia thinking, he wondered. En route to Home One, huddled in conference with Dodonna and Rieekan, going over details that needed no going over: Hoth was lost. Had she felt the moment the hangar emptied, pausing in the command center with only the battle to keep her company?

She would feel it, but then she'd push him out of her mind. Princess Leia Organa never took the easy route.

 _Leia,_ Luke's mind grieved.

And he was so tired.

"R2," he requested of his droid. "You can take over navigation again; I'm going to get some shut eye."

There was an affirmative beep and Luke lay his head against the canopy and closed his eyes.

 _I wasn't going to go, Han. You thought I was babbling and I told myself it was an hallucination and I couldn't leave Leia._

But - it must have been Han. Luke had almost sat upon a data board on the seat of his X-Wing when he was ready to evacuate. One tiny file in the menu, no heading. Just a series of numbers. Planetary coordinates. Han, who gave the Force no credit at all, must have been curious how Luke, who went off to check a meteorite and gotten attacked by a wampa, was suddenly aware of a planet's existence he had no business being aware of when Han found him almost frozen to death.

Han was telling him to go. To not take the easy route, and go. Leave everything he knew on an off chance, the slight odds Luke was not crazy.

He couldn't sleep. He wished he could take his helmet off. He wished he had a blanket. He wished he could stop feeling so godsdamned cold.

He had feared Dagobah would be a very long way, and that he would need to stop to refuel and recirculate his flight suit, but six hours was not a long trip by any means. Anobis had taken days to reach.

He let the ship's vibrations fill his helmet, chasing all thoughts until they stopped coming, and slept. He still felt everything when he woke up, guilt and despair and sorrow, but it was smaller, and he could hold it inside him without needing to show tears. _Grieving is like a cut_ , Luke thought. _It hurts, and it's raw, but then it closes over and you have a scar._ He felt guilty for the thought.

When he shifted in his seat the data board tucked between his legs fell on the floor, and he stooped to reclaim it. Han had put only one entry on it, so Luke thought he may as well claim it as something that was actually packed.

 **Things I'm Taking With Me** , he entered.

-R2D2. Which is fitting, he noted.

R2 housed Leia's hologram message and was trying to reach Ben, which was how Luke found Ben, and now Ben led Luke to Dagobah. _And he's mine; Uncle bought him, so it's not like I'm stealing from the Alliance._

-An X-Wing, which I've stolen.

It was one reason why he'd put off the trip to Dagobah. When he first considered Ben's vision in the warmth of his recovery bay, he'd noted how impossible it seemed. _How long would I be gone?_ Luke wondered. _And how am I going to get there?_ He was a commissioned officer in the Rebel army, you just didn't borrow an X-Wing and take off. _Can't Yoda come here, train me on Hoth?_

He thought of resigning. Or putting in for indefinite leave.

 _Why, son?_ he imagined Dodonna questioning him.

 _Because a ghost told me to before I collapsed from the cold._

Dodonna had offered assistance in his Jedi training, but even that sounded crazy to Luke.

He was trying not to think of who this Yoda could be, though his mind wasn't obeying him. He was a Master, who trained Ben. On Coruscant? Had this Yoda been killed in the Purge, and was a ghost like Ben? Or had he somehow survived and fled? And why Dagobah? Han mentioned that it was a swamp. It sounded wet. Was it possible for a planet to be strong in the Force, and that's why Luke was to go to Dagobah, or was it because Yoda liked swamps? Luke didn't, that was for sure.

-My lightsaber. Of course, Luke noted.

-Fifteen face cloths, four pair of socks, and my snow uniform. Because that's all I own. Oh, and the security camera that belongs on the _Falcon_ I used to take pictures for Leia's human cosmology report.

-A Force lesson, whose message keeps changing so I have to study it more.

-Ben, I think; though I haven't seen him since he said _you will go to Dagobah. There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi master who instructed me._

Luke sighed as his mind went through the round robin of questions about Yoda again.

-A ton of questions, doubts and a looming sense I am making the biggest mistake of my life.

-Three Alliance-issued meal trays to enjoy while I'm supposed to be following their coordinates, and four nutrition bars. I hope there's some place to eat there.

The number of meals indicated the hyperspace journey from Hoth to wherever the rendezvous point was located was a good distance away. He wondered where Home One was. Leia had mentioned it once, hadn't she? when she told him about the second Death Star. But he didn't remember. He wished he had a star chart. He could study it, make guesses. R2 probably knew, but he still regarded it as a security risk to ask him. What if he was captured?

He squirmed. The Empire would shoot him as a traitor, and so would the Alliance. He was absent without leave.

 **Things I've Left Behind**

This was a hard list to start, because it tore at his heart.

-My sanity. See above.

-Leia.

He lifted his head and stared out the canopy, because it was hard to write with a lump in one's throat.

The reason I wasn't going to go at all.

The issue of transportation notwithstanding, Leia was the real reason he was going to put his trip off. His Force lesson had stayed with him. Their two beginnings, hers almost the same as his, bound him to her even stronger than her holomessage had.

Yet the Force wanted him to leave her.

It didn't make sense to him. She had stayed by his side while he recovered from severe hypothermia and nerve damage and infected wampa wounds, devoted; and he felt weak. Not sick, just- weak. In her presence, her… ability? Her everything? His escape from a wampa left him lying in bed while her escape from the clutches of Darth Vader had her winning a war.

The lesson was of a baby girl, brought home to a frail queen by her viceroy husband. A princess, like her mother; a senator, like her father. Adopted into a strong culture of heritage, raised to resurrect something dead.

And things kept dying. _Poor Leia,_ Luke thought. First her mother. Little pieces of her world disappearing until there was nothing left. Only what her father left her. A war. A lifetime of vigil, until it was either won or lost.

It must have been a terrible night for her, he reflected, when she believed he and Han to be lost. While he spent the night mostly safe and rambling deliriously to Han, she spent it waiting for morning when their bodies could be found. A worse night for her than it had been for him. Waiting for execution on the Death Star was probably easier. _Because dying is easier,_ Luke reconfirmed to himself. _It's loving that's hard._

She must have thought she was alone again. It was nice to know that Leia counted a farm boy and a smuggler among the things she cared about, things like peace and freedom.

The ironic thing was she would tell him to go. The thought would make her a little sad, and a little jealous, but she would say, "Luke, this is everything you've always wanted!"

"Do you think it was real, though?" he would ask her.

"Of course it must have been," she would assure him. "Otherwise you wouldn't have had it. You have the Force."

She had such confidence. In him, and herself. She believed in his vision, and she believed she would see him one day as a Jedi.

What would happen to her now? Alone at the rendezvous, the responsibility of having to bolster Home One's spirits after a terrible loss on Hoth. Not even Han to keep her occupied. Which brought him to the next item:

\- Han.

Again, he found it hard to write something. Finally, he came up with, whom I let go.

Fresh misery and guilt, and he knew why now all this was impossibly sad. For close to three years now, it had been the farm boy, the smuggler, the Princess. Three lives, one destiny. Now, three paths stretched out before him. Alliance, Force and Hutt. While Leia had Luke she had the Force, and while he had her he had the Alliance, just like the brochures Han had peddled in a Force vision long ago. But Han would leave empty handed.

It was one thing to let someone go, whom you knew had a chance of becoming something. He knew Leia would be excited for Luke, and Han was tacitly encouraging about Dagobah. But Han... Leia had let him go, too, which while it was nice to have someone share his guilt, he didn't feel better. They let Han go, to face the Hutt. Someone who paid bounty hunters to kill him, _kill_ him; not just capture, and they were going to let Han breeze in, "you don't have to be mad anymore, Jabba. I've got your money, plus." Han, with his casual charm and confidence, and Jabba would try and make sure this particular death was not easy.

Luke straightened in his seat, ready to take over manual controls again and enter the coordinates for Tatooine. This was wrong. If Han supported Luke's career with the Force than it was only fair Luke supported Han as a smug-

That didn't come out like it was supposed to.

 _He's got to follow his own path._

Leia again, so young but wise.

 _But Leia,_ he would whine.

 _I don't like it either, Luke. But we have choices. And he made his. A long time ago._

She sounded angry, in his head. The thought of Han leaving always turned her curt.

Luke bobbed his head from side to side. She was right. There were choices. Han could stay, or he could go, and both Luke and Leia, and even Rieekan, with formal papers drawn up for Han to sign, had attempted to persuade him to stay. Han had been very clear what he wanted.

\- Han and Leia. Because it was nice to watch.

Luke almost deleted that. But then he thought, you know, it had been nice. A bright spot in the war. Something that would never have happened if there hadn't been this war. A princess and a smuggler would never have the circumstance to meet in times of peace and prosperity.

He took a moment to enjoy thoughts of his friends, the way she touched him and the way he looked at her, and decided to delete it. He wrote, last item deleted, because I think it ceased to exist before I left. So I haven't left it behind.

-Memories of Han and Leia, he edited.

The last time he saw Han, it had been in the hangar, and he'd gotten a heartfelt, "Be careful." The last time he saw Leia, it was on the way to his speeder, and he dashed into the command center to make sure she left the picture of Alderaan on her vacated office wall, and she told him she'd leave a wampa in there, too, if she could, and they were about to say more, but a tech announced, "Imperial Walkers on the north ridge," so they held each other's eyes and said at the same time, "May the Force be with you," and she had to direct the troops and he had to shoot down Walkers.

But the last time he saw Han and Leia together had been in his recovery room. Han burst in with a loud saunter, full of forced cheer and so much presence that Luke, Chewie and the droids immediately faded to the background as he targeted Leia with the reflexes of a speed draw, and the room narrowed to just the two of them.

"Well, Your Worhship," he drawled cockily, whirling from Luke's side.

It occurred to Luke it might be the first time they were together since Luke's return to base. Leia had remained at his bedside, using the sick bay as office and mess during his recovery.

Had Leia the chance to say to Han, _I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad you're safe,_ like she had told Luke over and over?

She wasn't going to now, that was clear.

Luke thought of ordering them out. It was his sick bay, after all, and they were pissing him off. He wanted to yell at them to take their...their crazy courtship, if that's what this was, the hell out of there. To stop sticking him in the middle-

It wasn't _his_ fault she'd been deluding herself Han was going to stay. It wasn't his fault Han decided to let Leia know by shaving his beard.

She was angry with Han, because of Luke. As if Han risked his life in some gallant overture. _Here, Princess, accept this knave as a token of my love. Be with him, and think of me. I did it so you would no longer be alone._

She thought Han thought she should be with Luke? Was she crazy?

Did Han? There was an air of aggrieved hurt about him, like he'd offered something up and been rebuffed. He offered Luke? No, Han was not that kind of crazy.

Han went after Luke because when there was a chance, no matter how small, you took it because you might get lucky. He was showing Leia _this is the man I am_ but the one she saw deserted her for a Hutt and left again, for a friend, and that hurt even more.

Han put his arm around Leia, something Luke had seen him do before, but this time it was false, exposing, and they all knew it.

Leia shook him with off genuine anger. Her eyes blazed, her teeth on her lips spitting childish insults, and she looked nothing like the composed Princess Echo Base knew, and she came at Luke like he was her weapon.

Alarmed, Luke sat up. She meant business. She was going to throw Luke in Han's face.

She'd done it before, just a few times, when she wasn't getting what she wanted from Han. It didn't matter that he never got the Leia he wanted, but she would show him what she could be like with someone else. Luke, usually.

Luke called it the Han Smile because she only ever aimed it at Luke when Han was around. And she would touch Luke. The Han Touch. Never hold hands with Luke, but hug him quickly, or link her arm in his. Claim him, sort of, in front of Han. _Luke, I haven't seen you all day. Come to my quarters for tea._

"I guess you don't know everything about women yet," Leia had told Han in a scathing voice, and Luke braced himself as she grabbed his head.

Her lips were on his mouth, not kissing, just flattened against him, and she held the sides of his face, preventing him from recoiling. She kept him like that a moment, her mouth pressing angrily, and as his own surprised eyes met hers he saw a plea.

She released him, her face starting to flush a brilliant scarlet, but to her credit made a fairly elegant exit.

Han had his moments, he really did, Luke thought, but he'd blown this one sky high. In a show of support for Leia, he pretended she had actually and meaningfully kissed him, and gloated with his arms folded over his head.

Chewie was willing to discuss it. "The Princess is different than other human women I've known," he offered up to Han and Luke. "Either she does have more to teach you males, or she made that up," but no one answered him.

 _She expressed her true feelings for me._ Typically, Han had twisted the truth. _No Han,_ Luke thought, _she denied her true feelings, but you know them now anyway._

Han and Leia. Two lives inside a war. Ancestor Luke rocked in his chair. _I loved them,_ he told his descendants.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The quiet was getting to him. The wait. He was impatient to land, now that there was no going back. He watched the console anxiously, looking for blue sparks and he listened to the silence outside the canopy, imagining an air leak.

He breathed deep, and tried to calm his mind. Too many memories, lists. Biggs, Hobbie, Dak. Han, Leia. Leia.

Two babies, born with an Empire, twenty-two years ago. A Jedi, passing tradition off to one who couldn't carry it. A Senator, taking on something new as his government died.

A history lesson? Luke wondered, as he thought of What the Force had revealed to him. The ways of the old life, the Jedi and the Old Republic, Ben and Bail symbols of each, giving way to the future, the Empire and dark times; two babies offering hope. Merely hope.

Ben. Leia. _Years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars..._ _. He claims to belong to someone called Obi Wan Kenobi..._

"R2? Were you really Obi Wan's droid?" Luke used Ben's Jedi name. A mournful whistle sounded, but the translation screen read, 'negative'.

Intrigued, Luke said. "You can't lie. You're an astromech. 3PO said-"

Surprisingly, the droid interrupted with a spurt that sounded disdainful. Luke would have interpreted it as 'pain in the ass if I had an ass', or more simply, 'liar' but the screen read, 'faulty translation.'

"Oh," Luke said thoughtfully. How would R2 be connected to Ben, if he was traveling with Leia. "You were Viceroy Organa's?"

'Negative.'

"Then-" Frustrated, thought back to everything Ben had told him, every connection between Ben and Bail. _Star pilot, general._ "You belonged to the Jedi?"

R2 took a moment to whistle an answer. Luke noted the hesitation, but read off, 'affirmative.'

"They were peace keepers, warriors," Luke talked to himself. "So they needed to get places." They had things, he wanted to tell Rieekan, to go back to his interview with the General. They did possess, contrary to their monk-like reputation. They weren't given passage to places they needed to be; they weren't served in this way out of kindness or goodness, like they were food and shelter. "They had a fleet."

The realization chilled him, though he wasn't sure why. If it was a fleet the Old Republic made available to the Jedi, that was one thing; if they had their own... no wonder the Emperor feared them.

"Did you fly with General Kenobi?"

'Negative.'

"My father?"

'Clarify.' The whistle sounded evasive.

Puzzling, Luke thought at first. Then he thought, it's a droid. R2 would not be invited to participate in the drama of life and love, would he. "Anakin Skywalker."

'Affirmative.'

Luke's breathing hastened, and he felt excited. "Tell me about him."

'Human.'

Luke laughed in bitter irony. What had he expected. Once upon a time?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

R2 woke him up again when it was time to emerge from hyperspace. Luke rolled his ankles and stretched as best he could in the cramped cockpit. Six hours.

Dagobah was... ugly, from space. Luke immediately apologized for the thought, connecting the planet as the physical embodiment of the Force and not wanting to cause trouble by insulting it before he even met it. He'd been so many places now. How could one top the yellow of Tatooine, the white of Hoth, the Bright Jewel Cluster? Pink clouds.

It was... he tried to put it positively. The color of Han's eyes? Murky brown-green or green-brown. No pink. It didn't look particularly inviting, but neither did Tatooine or Hoth. Neither did Han's eyes, until you got to know him.

It looked drab. Yes. Tatooine looked hot, even from space, and Hoth looked very cold, as cold as space. Dagobah was fairly characterless. There weren't any great mountain ranges; there weren't any pools of blue, great bodies of water. The superficial view offered very little.

"Massive life form readings," he informed R2 unnecessarily, because the droid had access to the same information. "There's something alive down there."

His first lesson: the Force was an energy field created by all living things.

Maybe that's why Dagobah, he thought. So many living things. It must be strong with the Force. Had Yoda known of it? Is that why he was here, one of those millions and millions of life forms? Or had Dagobah called him when he fled from Darth Vader?

His second lesson: Jedi Knight Obi Wan Kenobi had passed a baby on to Owen Lars, not so much to keep him safe, but for safekeeping. Until the baby was ready to come to Dagobah.

His ship shuddered and the console lights went dark. "I know, I know!" he shouted to R2. _I'm here, I'm here!_ he told the planet. "I'm going to start the landing sequence" he announced, but it was no good. The planet had the ship, and Luke fought helplessly as they tore through tree tops.

Six hours. Six hours ago he did not object to the thought of dying, would welcome a visit from death. Six hours later and he thought _not now, not this way. I will not die._

 _Lesson Three,_ Luke thought. _Time. Life and Death. Babies and descendants. The past and the future._

His X-Wing landed with a crash. Luke stayed frozen a moment, waiting for his brain to catch up with his heart. His eyes watched the water droplets stream downwards. He was alive. Uninjured , even.

 _Water,_ he groaned. _I hate water._

The canopy opened for him when it shouldn't have. The console was dead moments ago. He took in the surroundings. Water, which he hated, and fog, which was air made of water; grayness covering everything- trees and water and life. He heard calls, rustles, creaks and splashes.

Steamy fog curling in a finger over the swamp, beckoning. Luke's desperate eyes sought past it.

Mystery, and riddle, and life.


	26. Pictures

Food was going to be a problem. A big one.

Luke was hungry, already. He had three ready meals and four nutrient bars as provisions. Heck, on Hoth he'd eat all that in one day.

He looked around. There was life, a great deal of it. Things that were edible, maybe, but things that took a bit of work until they got to that point.

He'd never been an outdoors man. On Tatooine, such a concept didn't really exist, unless one was crazy or a Tuskan Raider.

That's all there was on Dagobah, apparently- the outdoors. Luke saw things that flew, leaped, or slithered. He knew things swam under the water, because something swallowed and spat out R2. He'd caught a glimpse of a gleaming, arching black back. In his mind he discovered a new species, the Skywalker Swamp Monster, but he knew he wasn't being fair. He was just projecting his fear and terror on it. Maybe it wasn't violently carnivorous; maybe it had just been curious.

He had emptied the emergency repair crate from the ship and found a tarp, which he would use to sleep on, at least tonight; a generator, which served to charge up R2 and provide a little light, and which would not last long, unless he found fuel for it; and tools. Wire nippers, a soldering iron, a spanner, and a screw driver. No knife. No tow cable to haul the half-submerged X-Wing out of the mud. No swamp drainer.

Luke really hadn't wanted to return to the X-Wing. At all. Only if he were able to lift off and find a more suitable place to land. Or more likely, he thought honestly, if it were possible to get the ship out, he might lift off and turn coward, just keep rising up and leave; let Ben and this Yoda find another way to reach out to him. It would serve them right. He was angry at his predicament and wanted someone to blame; anyone.

 _I'm stuck, Ben,_ he sent rebellious thoughts to his dead mentor. _Fine, maybe there's a Yoda here and maybe in fifty years I'll be a master. Then what? I sure as hell can't do anything about your evil pupil while stuck in the mud._

Maybe Ben would send Vader here.

 _Well, shit._

From what Luke understood of Ben that was totally within the realm of possibility.

 _Darth,_ Ben would call Vader- because like Han Ben would equalize by disrespecting a title- _the future of the galaxy is on Dagobah, stuck in the mud. If you would like to change the future, why don't you go there and see if you can defeat him?_

"You're lucky you're made of metal and duroplast," he told R2, thinking he might as well start talking to the droid even though he couldn't understand its responses. He'd be crazy in a month anyway, half -starved and hysterical, "or else I might eat you."

He could start a fire. That was something. And he had a blaster and his lightsaber. So he could kill- hunt- something, and cook it. But he couldn't skin it.

Thunder rumbled overhead. Great, now it was going to rain. He should probably grant himself permission to eat something. It was hard to stay focused with an empty stomach. When was the last time he ate anyway?

Thunder rumbled again and R2 whimpered worriedly.

Breakfast, on Hoth. When he was still in recovery. He could see it now, so real, realer than anything he looked at here. His discarded meal tray on the bedside table. He'd enjoyed the eggs, meat, and the roll, but he had left the grains portion uneaten. It was not popular. Everyone called it chaff.

Oh, if he could just go back… he'd finish that chaff. And he would tell Leia about his vision, not tuck it inside him like it was something to be ashamed of. She would help him pack, make sure he brought a case of nutrient bars. And she would arrange for a care drop in a few weeks' time on Dagobah, maybe even show up herself…

 _Oh, Leia. What have I done?_

Would anyone ever find him? He could picture himself after a month's time here, his clothes in tatters, hair matted, chomping on a limb of something and spitting fur out of his mouth, ranting about roots trying to trip him.

That was his greatest fear, even greater than starving to death- that he was stranded.

Han knew to look for him here, but Han was probably dead by now. And Ben- Luke heard, or dreamed or was dying, saw Ben's glowing blue form- Ben was the one who sent him here. If it was a vision.

In the morning he would explore some more, he decided. Find some dry wood for a fire. Vines and saplings for a shelter. Maybe he'd come across some berries, or nuts, and sampling them wouldn't poison him.

He had no idea how to commence a search for this Jedi Master, this Yoda. Everything was wet, and wild; dark with a dense fog. Black branches or roots were hidden from view until the fog decided to reveal them.

"Strange place to find a Jedi master," he mentioned to R2, who whistled back gently.

He might as well surrender now. He opened the tin and selected a nutrient bar. Just one. He needed discipline.

"This place gives me the creeps," Luke told R2, and it was the truth. He'd never been in a place like this, full of mystery and things unseen. He kept turning his head, on the lookout for worms or insects, and felt life approaching.

"Still," he continued to R2, suddenly missing Chewbacca. If Chewie were with him, Luke wouldn't feel bad at all being the weak one. He would run and climb and live on the Wookiee's shoulders, protected and calmed. Chewie knew how to be wild, and he would establish himself on Dagobah on top of the food chain, and somehow Luke envisioned if he ate well, then his hair would be groomed and his clothes wouldn't tatter.

Something was behind him, something curious, not threatening. Slowly, Luke reached for his blaster. Dinner, Luke thought. Might as well start now. _Sorry little thing. I've got to eat._ He babbled to R2 some nonsense, thinking to not let the creature know he was aware of it. "I feel like..." Luke said vaguely.

"Feel like what?"

Luke whirled, his blaster pointing at a green, small being cowering on a stump. "Like we're being watched," he said triumphantly.

It spoke Basic, which astounded Luke. He'd heard lots of noises so far today, but nothing that resembled a language, at least to his ears. His sensors had not picked up any technology or civilization, and hadn't Han told him it wasn't colonized? So how did Basic spread here?

Luke guessed it was elderly, and male, and a mammal, because it had a scattering of gray hair on top of its head.

"I am wondering," the green being said in a gruff voice, "why are you here?"

If Luke was going to hunt it, he needed to act now. But he couldn't bring himself to shoot the being. It spoke Basic. It would be nice to be able to have someone to talk to, someone who could help him.

The being's hands and feet had curved and thick, wide nails. It seemed more like a body suited for a mountainous terrain. One couldn't swim well with hands like that. Or climb trees. Or keep out of the mud.

Luke felt himself relax and he reholstered his blaster. "I'm looking for someone," was the only explanation he offered.

"Looking? Found someone you have, I would say!" and the green being burst out in laughter and hopped down to explore Luke's campsite.

In a few moments, Luke was ready to strangle this new neighbor and risk chancing the swamp without any help. R2 and- Greenie, for lack of a better name- got into a tug of war over a light and Greenie actually hit the droid repeatedly with is walking stick. He also put his green lips on Luke's ration bar before tossing it away carelessly, as if there were plenty of food in the swamp.

"Hey," Luke protested angrily. "That's my dinner!" It was a precious commodity to him, more so than the contents of the emergency repairs crate Greenie was throwing into the swamp. Maybe it wasn't too late to shoot Greenie, after all. There was no time like the present to learn to hunt, and Luke's provisions had just gone down by one.

"You're making a mess," he grumbled as he cleaned up a transmission belt only to have a spanner land by his feet. Why he was reining in his temper he had no idea. Maybe lessons Aunt Beru had taught him took hold, even when he wanted to snap and chase Greenie away. Han would have shot him already, and Chewie would have built the fire to cook him. Leia would try and sweet talk Greenie into coming back another time, when she was more rested.

Luke shook his head. Thinking of his friends, knowing how they'd react, made this whole experience seem so unreal. _Maybe I'm still having a vision,_ he thought to himself. _I'm still in the survival shelter and this is just one long, bad dream._

"Stay and help you I will," Greenie insisted. "Find your friend."

Greenie looked up at Luke with wide brown eyes. His ears were mobile and he didn't seem to take anything seriously. He kept making odd noises, chuckles or grunts. Moments earlier Luke despaired at being the only intelligent life on this planet, and now he just wanted to be left alone.

Losing patience, Luke snapped, "I'm not looking for a friend. I'm looking for a Jedi master." He wore a challenge in his eyes, he knew it. _There's bigger things here than you know, little fellow. That is, if I'm not dreaming._

Greenie's expressive ears raised and his face shone with wonder. "Yoda," he marveled to Luke, as if it were a coincidence. "You seek Yoda."

Luke squatted in front of Greenie. "You know him?" It _was_ a coincidence. But surely a Jedi master would be known to the beings here. Even Old Ben, living like a recluse and a hermit, was known all over parts of Mos Espa.

"Take you to him I will." Greenie burst out in his odd laughter again, and Luke wondered just what was so funny. "Now, we must eat. Come, good food." Greenie hobbled away, beckoning with the small light he had appropriated from Luke.

Eat, Luke heard. Good food. He didn't even care if it was good. As long as it was food. "R2," he decided, "stay and watch over the camp."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Greenie's home surprised Luke. It nestled in the hollow of a huge tree, and was supported by roots buttressing it from outside. Greenie had smoothed the interior with mud that had dried smooth over time. A small fire blazed in a pit, and Luke saw earthenware dishes that had a crude yet artistic execution. Gathered plants hung from the ceilings, and Greenie's bed had a woven brown blanket. Luke rubbed the blanket between his fingers, thinking of Ben, and asked, "are you a native of this place? How long have you lived here?"

"My home, this is," Greenie acknowledged.

Outside it was raining, but it was warm and dry in Greenie's abode, and Luke felt badly for R2, standing outside and getting dripped on.

"Why can't we go see Yoda now?" Luke asked for the third time.

"Patience," Greenie cautioned, and Luke scowled. How many times had he heard that? "For the Jedi it is time to eat, too."

Maybe he had better food, Luke thought ungratefully as he sampled from a pot that hung over the fire.

All Greenie talked about was eating. And food, and patience. If Yoda was here, Luke wanted- _needed_ \- to see him. Now. It meant everything, and suddenly food meant nothing. It meant he hadn't been hallucinating; the vision had been real. Yoda was here! It meant he would study the Force, he would be a Jedi. He wasn't crazy. This was real.

Was Greenie crazy? That was a possibility, wasn't it? Cheerful and childish, all he wanted to do was eat. Didn't he see how important this was?

Was Greenie even real? If Luke had had one hallucination, then it stood to reason he could have more. And he'd been dying when he saw Ben. Maybe Luke was dead… maybe when the X-Wing crashed in the swamp and Luke sat waiting for his brain to tell him it was alive, maybe he had died, and was.. or he was dying, and this was another hallucination…

Luke looked down at his bowl, the color of mud. Mud. Everywhere, mud. His hands looked real. The substance in his bowl, thick and brown and green, the colors of Dagobah. Dagobah- he was looking at Dagobah from… from Death… he was dead...

But he could taste. And smell. And feel the wet of rain. He had to know. "I just don't understand why we can't see Yoda now," he said again. _Just tell me already._ _Am I dead? Tell me I'm not dead._

Greenie finally showed some polite interest in his guest and asked why he sought the teachings of Yoda.

"Because of my father, I guess," Luke said, though suddenly he was no longer sure. _Because of Ben,_ he realized. True, his father had been a Jedi, but he never knew that; it was Ben who told him when Luke sought to bring him Leia's message. Luke was Force-sensitive, again a fact of which Ben had informed him, only then. _And because of Owen and Beru,_ killed so brutally, destroying any ties he had to his homeworld.

"Powerful Jedi," Greenie observed, cutting into Luke's thoughts.

Luke stared at Greenie. _He is crazy,_ he thought. Why would there be Jedi here? This place was a swamp. A gods-forsaken, ugly, swamp. A place where beings came to die, or become crazy muttering hermits.

It was dry, and there was food, but Luke was not going to tolerate anyone making suppositions about his character just because they were crazy. Or he was dead. Then he certainly was not going to put up with it. Gentle lessons of Beru fled, and any diplomacy he had learned at Leia's side vanished also.

 _This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _A little green creature pretends he knows everything just because he knows a Jedi master._ _His food doesn't even taste good. I should be finishing setting up camp. I should be figuring out am I alive, or dead, or -_ "I don't even know what I'm doing here," he yelled, throwing his spoon back in the bowl. "We're wasting our time!"

He immediately regretted his outburst. He seemed to have hurt Greenie's feelings. Greenie turned his back to Luke and sighed. Luke watched the little hunched form, about to offer an apology, an excuse, _look, I think I've gone insane, I'm sorry…_

But he heard Greenie say in an entirely new voice. "I cannot teach him."

More crazy, Luke started to think, but then Greenie seemed to speak in Ben's voice. "He will learn."

Luke's mouth dropped open as realization struck. "Yoda," he whispered, looking at Greenie in an entirely new light.

Greenie- Yoda, Luke corrected, and Ben continued to talk together. This was the test, Luke understood. All this time when he thought he was tested, on Ord Mantell, on Hoth, he wasn't. Now was the time.

He wasn't dead. He wasn't crazy. Neither was Greenie. Greenie was Yoda.

 _This_ was the test! Luke was so angry. Gods- He passed a hand through his hair. Why didn't they, or Ben, just-

They were still testing him, talking quietly. Luke, Yoda was telling Ben, was too old. Too old?! Acting like Luke couldn't be trained, should be sent on his way. _I am stuck here, Ben!_ he reminded his mentor.

He didn't understand. He kept glancing at the ceiling, looking for Ben's shimmering light. Was this just Ben's idea to bring Luke here? Had he not informed Yoda he was sending Luke? How could there be an option, Luke wanted to shout at him, you will or won't train me?

Yoda was jabbing him painfully in the shoulder with the walking stick, arguing with Ben. "Never his mind on where he was." Another jab. "What he was doing."

"But I've learned so much," Luke entreated, thinking _I know, Uncle tried so hard with me, he did._

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He slept in Yoda's hut, warm and dry. He ate stew grown crusty and thick in the morning, still in the pot over the constant fire. Yoda added more water to the pot and threw another branch in the pit and they walked to the camp site to fetch Luke's belongings and bring it to the hut.

His training began.

"Run," Yoda said. Luke wore his bag over his shoulders and Yoda sat in it, his thick nails gripping the muscle under Luke's arms tightly.

"Run?" Luke questioned.

"Run!" Yoda barked.

He ran. Then he climbed. And swung. He waded and vaulted.

That was day one.

He returned to Yoda's hut, sore, filthy and exhausted. He washed his orange flight suit in the muddy swamp water, and put on the undershirt and khaki pants of the snow uniform, ate some more stew.

"Are Jedi vegetarians?" he asked.

"Why ask you this?"

Luke showed the contents of his spoon to make his point. "We're eating leaves."

"You eat leaves. My diet, this is," Yoda said defensively.

"But the Force is made by living things."

"A great variety of life there is," Yoda told him. "I knew a Jedi, only fish he ate. Become ill, he would, if his diet changed."

"But if you take a life-"

"All the same it is. The dead, the living. A leaf or a fish."

Luke finished his stew and pondered this, but all he got out of it was the Force was full of contradictions. He fell right to sleep.

"Run," Yoda said on the second day.

On the third day, after Yoda said "run," Luke was too sore to start.

"When will we do something else?" Luke had asked to try and get out of running. "Use the Force."

"The Force is running," Yoda answered sternly. "Breathing it is. Living."

"Ben covered my eyes with a shield and had me block a remote's shots with my saber on my first lesson with him."

"So sure are you to greet the Force in all you do?" Yoda pointed over Luke's shoulder. "Then swim."

"I can't swim," Luke said quickly, not wishing to enter the dark swamp water and meet an unseen occupant.

"Then ready are you not to do something else."

The days were monotonous, wearying, and Luke lost track of time. He spent it in physical activity.

Yoda was a different teacher than Ben. Ben was gentle, sharing awe with a student who embraced the Force.

Ben trusted the Force, trusted the student with the Force. He guided and encouraged.

Yoda was demanding and exacting, all vestiges of childish Greenie gone. He didn't encourage, but observed without comment a student's progress. Luke wasn't yet comfortable with his Master. He felt he was allowed to live with him, allowed to study; not yet allowed to share his thoughts.

At first Luke didn't see any changes in the way he behaved or thought. But one day his stiffness worked itself pleasurably out when he started moving, and he found he was not tiring. There was confidence in movement, power. One didn't just get around; one used the air, the wind; height and obstacles, and it all came to him in a flash of instinct.

"What learned have you?" Yoda finally spoke after a thoroughly enjoyable day of running and leaping.

Luke steadied his breathing, stalling for time. The question had the definite aura of a test. Specifically, he hadn't learned anything. Yoda was always silent, a weight on his back, as Luke performed his exercises. He had learned, anyway, to not answer the question with "we do the same thing every day."

He had said that once to Beru, the Force presence on one of his many visits to his kitchen to talk with Ben, and his uncle and father. He had complained that his father only talked about Darth Vader and Ben his father. "You say the same thing all the time," he told them, and Beru had shown him the door and closed it in his face.

 _So,_ Luke concluded, _I am not answering, which means I've changed, which means I've learned._ "I've learned," he said slowly, "that," he paused again, not wanting to blow it,"that I can't let my… that how I think isn't really what is. That I can't let my expectations, or fears, cloud my judgment. That I need to strip everything down to what is." He looked up at Yoda, the amazement of the truth on his face. He smiled for the first time since landing on Dagobah. "I got all that from running."

Yoda was non-congratulatory as always. "Took you twelve days to learn that it did." He pointed to the swamp and nodded. "Swim," he directed.

Luke's lips parted and his eyes darted involuntarily to a section of swamp. He rose, moving slowly. Yoda wanted him to swim, when he knew Luke couldn't. _When he knew I told him I couldn't, he_ corrected. _Which means I can._

He took off his boots, watching the water carefully for ripples of movement. He was going to swim, he knew it, but still thought meeting Skywalker's Swamp Monster might earn him a mouthful of water.

 _Oh, gads_ , Luke shivered, but the mud had the most disgusting texture. It oozed through the spaces between his toes and he knew he was disturbing mollusks. He walked out up to his shins, feeling branches, slimy weeds. _I seek the water,_ he told the swamp, and when the water reached his thighs, squatted down and pushed forward.

Yoda wouldn't let him drown, Luke was pretty sure. He didn't know what to do, but Yoda sat where he had left him, gripping his walking stick and watching intently. Luke's feet left the ground and his belly touched the mud, his face disappearing from the surface. He clawed forward, using the mud, then moved his arms and legs with the momentum, and before his belly touched the mud moved his arms and legs again. He repeated this, until he found a rhythm and he no longer needed to rely on the bottom. Soon though, there was a tightness in his chest, a limiting of his time underwater. He pawed through the water upwards, and was completely surprised to find he'd broken past the water's surface, and was breathing air.

He started to sink again, and took a breath, turning around and noting Yoda's location to return to him. He swam back, underwater.

He stood dripping before Yoda, steam rising off his tank top, happy, with himself, with his place in the galaxy, for the first time in his life.

Yoda plucked leeches off Luke's feet. "Edible, are these."

"Oh, I'm fine with leaves, thanks."

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"Master Yoda," Luke said, checking his rear for more leeches, "you haven't asked me for news." He stood drying off before Yoda's cooking fire.

Twelve days, Yoda had mentioned, since Luke arrived. Luke thought of Han and Leia several times a day. Some day, he wouldn't, he knew. Beru and Owen had disappeared from his thoughts, except occasionally. But Leia was not dead; he wouldn't let Han be unless he knew for sure, and he found himself striking up imaginary conversations with them. _Han, how can I make the vines strong enough to pull an X-Wing? Leia, I wish you could see the way the wind blows rain over the swamp. It's a cloud of drops, and it's beautiful._

If Luke were here twenty years and a stranger arrived, he knew he would almost attack the visitor: _I need to send a_ message, he would plead urgently, wringing his hands, the desire to hold a comm so desperate. _Tell me, is Vader defeated?_

"News?" The Jedi Master was tearing mushrooms up with his strong fingers. He told Luke a human digestive system could handle them. How he would know that, Luke had no idea. Either a human had visited here before, or the Force was full of trivial information.

Luke slept over gathered mosses covered by his tarp on Yoda's earth floor. His duffel lay empty there, next to his muddy and wet boots, ready to hold Yoda for the next lesson. The rest of the contents, his clothes, the data board, and the _Falcon's_ security camera, lay atop the tarp. R2 stayed outside.

"Are you in touch with someone?" Luke asked. "Does anyone contact you with news of what's been going on?" He was thinking of Leia, of letting her know he was alive, of how much he missed her, how much he wanted to tell her.

"No news have I." Yoda hobbled into the cooking area with his walking stick.

"Oh. Aren't you curious? Do you know there's a war going on?"

"A war there was when arrived here I did." He scraped the mushrooms off a plate into the stew pot. "And know more I need not; I see the dark side for what it is."

"And yet, you're not retired," Luke said, not asking. "You feel it important to train me."

"End, should wars," Yoda said.

"You really think I can help?" Luke stirred the stew pot for Yoda. It was the same stew, day in and day out. Yoda just added more water and things to it, but to Luke it was a spring, the magically replenishing stew.

"Yes."

"How?" Luke saw Yoda wasn't going to answer. He had a way of pretending he didn't hear the question. He would walk away. Or he may simply tell Luke, "no questions." This time Yoda just sighed.

"Are there more like me?" Luke asked. "Force-sensitive?"

"Answer that yourself, you can," Yoda said.

Luke nodded. "There are. I bet there are a lot. There's got to be." He leaned forward. "Why me? Why only me? Why not a whole-"

"Feel the Force, can Vader. And Palpatine-"

"Palpatine,too?"

"-Feel it, they can, when used it is. When by many, noticeable that would be."

That didn't really answer Luke's question, but Yoda's answer prompted a new thought. "Can a Jedi- can someone like me," he altered his question at Yoda's glare, "use the Force, to," Luke struggled, "to contact anyone? Or feel them? Somehow? Be able to think of them and be brought to them."

Yoda regarded Luke, and at first Luke thought he would be scolded for thinking too far ahead, for not keeping his mind on where he was. But he expression was kindly, and his ears moved back. "Friends you miss," he concluded.

Luke nodded eagerly. "Yes. Can I show you?" He got up to get his image recording device and activated it. He flicked through pictures of cantinas.

"Why collect you holos of drinking establishments?" Yoda wondered. "A silly hobby that is."

Luke smiled as he moved through the file of landscapes. "It was a joke." His lips kept smiling past landscapes. "For a friend. Here, him. That's Han." Luke touched his finger to the screen.

Yoda merely grunted.

The picture was of Han standing with a group of people they had met on Leia's human cosmography tour. Luke couldn't remember where. They all held a flask, gathered around a small, high table. Looking among themselves, and at Han, their visitor, in the midst of a laughing conversation. Han was near the end, his half-empty flask in one hand, and he was the only one looking directly at the camera. At Luke.

Wry and rangy, the sight of Han hit Luke in the gut. He lingered over the picture a moment, at the scar on Han's chin that caused his mouth to angle upwards, at the eyes, dark in this picture, full of mocking awareness. It was a clarifying moment, how Han was in the picture, but also he wasn't. Joking, drinking, talking; physically present, yet some consciousness sent him out, beyond. To Luke.

"He helped me get here," Luke commented distantly, staring at Han and wondering how he was. Would the galaxy feel different, he mused, if Han's presence was gone? Would he know? He kept swiping at the screen, lost in time, Yoda forgotten, moving holos, moving moments aside. "This is Chewbacca," Luke stopped to show Yoda Chewie with a bandage on his chest, seated in the copilot's chair. "He's a Wookiee."

"The mighty Chewbacca," Yoda said.

"Yeah," Luke agreed, then turned his head sharply at Yoda, marveling at the accuracy of the assessment. "He is. Were there Wookiee Jedi?"

"Mm, yes."

"That's," Luke flicked quickly past C-3PO, "well, a droid."

"Attachments, you have. Many."

Luke nodded quickly, ignoring Yoda's comment. "This is the one. Leia. She's how the whole thing started. She sent a message in R2 to Ben. She was a Senator-"

"Senator, was she?"

"-working with her father in the Rebellion. But I got the message instead. Me and Han saved her and helped bring about the Rebellion's first real victory. And Chewie." Luke stopped. Almost three years of life summed up in a few sentences. It felt shallow. Instead of the message and the Rebellion, Luke preferred to go on about Leia. The way she was hard, yet soft; the way she fought everything, love and war. The way she looked in the pictures, her eyes luminous and gentle.

"She's the one I'd like to..." Everything, Luke thought. Comm her, invite her here, calm her. "...touch somehow." Yoda, he saw, was unmoved. "Don't you miss everyone you worked with?"

"Miss them, I do not." Yoda turned his hand up, and Luke noticed pieces of mushroom. "The Force have they. Have they become."

"But," Luke objected, then shut his mouth. Stripped, for what is. "Someone told me"- was it Rieekan or Han? "- Force-sensitive children left their families very early on." Stripped, Luke realized, of love and family. To form a new family.

Luke was too old, Yoda thought. He wasn't stripped. "I wouldn't be who I am without them," Luke looked down at the image of Leia on his image recorder. "I'd be blank."

Yoda grunted. "Not blank. Open, to the Force."

"But," Luke objected again. He couldn't let this go. He couldn't let Leia go, or Han. "The Force is created by life, and life is more than... than a heart beat. It's experiences. I would think you'd be strong with the Force, if you've lived."

"Strong are you." Yoda was looking at Luke as if he hadn't seen him before, his ears expressing apprehension and resentment.

"You'd rather I not know my aunt or uncle?" Luke faced his master defiantly. Not have a stuffed bantha, or a Skyhopper, or be punished when Luke didn't do his chores. "Not see how they died?" For it was Ben, and Leia and R2 who caused their deaths. "Would the Force have changed their outcome?"

"Not the Force. Only you, and the Senator."

Luke's eyes glittered with anger. "You can't blame me. Or her. That's wrong. " He rose and stepped out of the hut, into the evening rain. R2 whistled a greeting, and wobbled on two of his feet, a demonstration he was glad to see Luke. His whistle called Luke, _sit with me_ so Luke dropped to the ground and leaned his back against his droid.

 _Leia,_ he thought. _Are you there?_ He waited a moment, until an image of her arose in his mind, Leia in white, of Hoth, bathed in a quiet blue light. She sat alone, deep in contemplation.

 _Leia, it's me, Luke. I'm here. I see you. I'm fine._ _Just know I'm fine._

A feeling... from her? An image, a picture. Luke tried harder, but he could't place Han as easily as he could Leia. It was like Han was a projection from Leia.

Stars out the viewport, and Han was surrounded, and no one looked at her, except him. His gaze was intent on her.

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 _AN: The only drawback to a Luke POV story is we will have to miss Han and Leia's trip to Bespin. Good thing he has the Force! FYI I'll be posting a story called "Continuum", tomorrow maybe, which was written earlier than this one, but seems to tie in as a nice companion piece to this story, so I've held on to it._

 _Thank you for all the support and reviews. It means the galaxy!_


	27. Luminous Beings

The Force was science, matter, art and faith. It was physical, personal. Spiritual and practical.

Like life itself, Luke thought. All its facets.

Luke learned a martial art. He dissected a lightsaber and learned its components and how to build one. He concentrated, lifting stones high into the air with just his thoughts.

He went through the swamp with his mind, and body, and lightsaber, and yielded all to the Force. He didn't- couldn't- think of Leia or Han until he returned to Yoda's hut, and even then sparingly. Yoda didn't approve of Luke's things, emptied from his bag he now used to tote Yoda in during training runs. Luke argued they weren't really things so much as extensions of his identity.

"Attachment leads to the dark side," Yoda warned, but Luke disagreed. He thought to the light. All he had really, besides clothing, were memories, contained inside the image recorder.

"A Jedi in the light is passive," Yoda said.

Memories were passive, Luke thought. Looking at a picture of Leia and Han made him feel happy, or sad. It reminded him why he was here, what he had to face. It gave him strength.

"A Jedi's strength flows from the Force," Yoda told him. And Luke felt, like the wetness in the air, the presence of time, of all that had come before. Ben, and Beru and Owen, Leia. "Luminous beings are we."

He was careful, though, not to be caught looking at pictures of Leia or Han at the day's end. Yoda tolerated his data board, for he told Yoda he was keeping a diary of his studies.

 _Dear Leia,_ Luke wrote instead. _Han left me this. You can blame him for why I disappeared. I know you like to blame him. I wish he was there with you. I know he's not but for some reason I can't make myself accept that. I see him as still with you. Maybe it's this data board, how it lets me feel connected to you. I won't ask if you've heard from him. I probably don't want to know the answer._

 _But I'm here, and I'm in training, and the Force is with me. I've tapped into it, and it bubbles up and over sometimes like Master Yoda's invigorated stew, but I can't help it._

 _I blame you. Ha, don't be mad; I mean it joking but I think it's true. The Force is with me but so are you. I see you sometimes when I don't ask for you. I associate with you with the Falcon, isn't that interesting? And Han is somehow there, too, but I can't visualize him like I do you._

 _And you are okay, which makes me glad. There's a sense of surrender from you. Don't worry- not like you're captured or anything- just, you realize there isn't anything you can do? or you've come to accept what you're always fighting to change. I don't know what that is, but it feels good._

 _I'll get back to you as soon as I can but my X-Wing is not flying right now. When I figure that out, you'll know._

 _Bye for now, love Luke_

The Force was language, spoken in tenses. History, when the Force slowed actions and thoughts to a crawl, or the future, when it took so many directions it was impossible to follow it.

He found himself, at the end of the day, all things. Exhilarated or disappointed, the Force seeped into his dreams.

Some mornings he woke up, hearing _Luke, don't you let them catch those droids._ Determined, dying thoughts.

Or Leia. _Do you remember when we had to take Luke outside when he couldn't stop laughing?_ Han's laughter in answer, bittersweet: _yeah…_

It was thoughts. Owen's last, Leia's memories. She and Han talking. When had that taken place? But he would awaken, moved.

He was supposed to feel calm, passive. He was supposed to leave Owen, now one with the Force, and not want it to be different. He was supposed to let Leia have her memories but he wanted to join in _are you talking about when Lucky knocked 3PO down_ _in the briefing room_ _and he slid like fifty feet and he was hooting_ _and Dodonna was just looking at him_ _?_

The memory still had him giggling. Someone had left the door open and Lucky had come charging in, looking for Han. He had to get her to leave, and hoisted Luke up by the shoulder of his coat, Luke with his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh, and when he stepped out into the corridor burst out in a lengthy guffaw.

He was not supposed to want. Not in hunger, for that might lead to greed; not for companionship, for that might lead to desire; not to an end, for that may lead to aggression.

Sometimes it was all very clear. There was a light side of the Force, and a dark side. The light gave strength, peace. It buoyed, and Yoda made it sound like it added to one's experience of living.

He made the dark side sound like the bogey man of childhood nightmares. It was seductive, easy; it fed while it consumed. It seemed much more complicated. Luke wondered, that time when he was a little boy, and he'd begged Beru for a third cookie, and she said no- was that the dark side? Did it go to work early on a soul, while a soul had to work to see the light side?

"Forever will your destiny follow it," Yoda cautioned.

Luke would study Yoda, a master of the light side of the Force. "Clear your mind," Yoda would say, but Luke would think, _what's the opposite of consume?_ _Are you that, Yoda?_

Yoda did not talk about himself. Was there even a Yoda to talk of, Luke wondered. He talked about the Force mainly, as if he were almost one with it already. Unbelievably, he had taught for more than eight hundred years. But he wouldn't discuss what had brought him to Dagobah, or if the destination was meant always to be Dagobah.

Waking up in the morning, with a smile. _Would it help if I got out and pushed?_

Running, faster and faster, trying to outrun Beru's screams, so pained and harsh, _Owen,_ _my gods we're going to die_ _…_

"Think not of what cannot be changed," Yoda squeezed his shoulder. "Suffered, you have. Accept it, you must."

"I can't," Luke huffed, out of breath and unable to explain himself.

"Grief that is. Revenge is of the dark side."

There was light and dark, but there was also good and evil, and right and wrong. Luke found subtle distinctions in each. None had love.

 _I feel bad for Luke._ Whispers, thoughts, from Leia. The present. _I know he wonders what happened to us._ Us?

 _Dear Leia,_ he would write in his data board. _I wish you were here. I wish you could help me think through all this. Today I learned how to block twelve different ways in saber defense, and I learned that the dark side is ready to join you in a fight._

 _It makes me wonder if war, both sides, is the dark side? Accept its help, and you are doomed._

 _What do you think, Leia? Do you think we are all a lost cause? I look at you, and I think how you are the purest of anyone I know. You think in ideals, like the light side of the Force; not just good and evil which I guess is war. Do you have any darkness? Do I?_

 _I think I do. I failed a test. There's a place here. Master Yoda called it a domain of evil. He said I had to go in, but that I would find only what I took with me._

 _I know what you're about to ask: what did I take with me?_ _Let me ask you first what you would take. You would probably just square your shoulders and head on in. I know Han would take his blaster, and Chewie too._ _I took everything. I wonder what I would have found if I'd left my lightsaber and blaster behind, but-_

 _I know I disappointed Master Yoda. He told me I wouldn't need my weapons,_ _but I wasn't ready to just rely on only the Force yet. You know? I'm really good at the physical part. I love the lightsaber training and the running. I can concentrate well for a time, but something always comes in my mind, like a leak. Sometimes it's you. Or R2 will beep._

 _I took Darth Vader. Because he appeared, first just his foot steps. I lit my saber and he lit his, and we dueled. If I hadn't had my saber…_

 _But I defeated him. It wasn't real, so what did I defeat? At first I felt good, that I defeated Him-_ _I thought it was_ _my fear of Vader. But I… I cut off his head. I know, it's pretty violent, isn't it? Master Yoda also says a Jedi never uses the Force in aggression, so I guess that's how I disappointed him. I didn't act very Jedi-like. But, there's more. As Vader's helmet rolled to me, it opened, and I saw the face underneath the mask. And… I saw me, Leia. I saw me! Does that mean I am afraid of my own darkness? Does it mean I killed that, too, or is it what I can become?_

 _I'm so confused. Master Yoda wasn't much help. He doesn't counsel much. I feel like somehow he blames me for stuff, stuff I have nothing to do with._

 _Anyway, I miss you. You were in my dream last night. It wasn't really a dream. It's like a scene, only I can't see details and it's like your voice emanates from the bottom of the swamp but it's clear in my head. Han was teasing you like he does, and you got all affronted. You said, "ooh! I am not a committee!" and you were so mad but he definitely won that round._

 _It made me smile, waking up, thinking of you two. Master Yoda says that even emotions can lead to the dark side of the Force, so I have to be careful what I show around him._

 _He also said I'm too old to train to be a Jedi, but I think I know why. It's because I can think for myself. My memories are important and I won't let them go. To me, the emotions connecting those memories are the Force. The energy I feel. I feel it stronger when I think of you compared to when I think of Dodonna. You, and Han; Chewie and even Vader._ _You're all what make me strong in the Force, for good or for bad._

 _I better go. I've got to really think on this dark side stuff._

 _I hope you are well, and we've won some war._

 _Love, Luke_

Waking, his heart breaking at the image of a young woman trying to lift a hand to bequeath her love, naming him with breaths that numbered few. _Luke._

 _Mother._

Darth Vader embraced the dark side, Luke was told. And he knew that. For he had murdered. He was bad. It was simple. "Seduced, he was. Took the easy path." He wore black, not in honor of the Force but for death.

Leia was his opposite. In white, light. Angelic. _No! Alderaan is peaceful._ The planet's picture hung on her office wall. _You're next to die._ Her eyes were dark. They'd seen so much.

But Han wore both black and white, dark and light; criminal and friend. That seemed more natural, Luke thought. Nobody was perfect. Was there such a thing as pure evil? But that meant even Darth Vader had a bit of light in him.

To be an apprentice Jedi, and know peace, tranquility, and to give it up for murder, and power... When Luke thought of Vader he sensed an unquenchable thirst. What did Luke sense in himself?

 _Help me, Leia Organa, you're my only hope._

 _Just kidding. Do you remember the holomessage you composed to Ben? I remember every word._

 _You're why I'm here, Leia, so don't be sad. You, and Ben and R2. Good and bad. I wound up here, but my aunt and uncle died. That's all I'm going to say on that. I can't let myself think about it or guilt comes in. I know it's mostly irrational. We used to say the same thing to you about Alderaan, but I'm not sure we ever convinced you._

 _Ben had to convince Yoda to teach me, which still makes me wonder about everyone's motivations here. They're so hung up on Darth Vader! To hear them, Vader's the reason for the mess in the galaxy, not the Emperor. Master Yoda calls it an imbalance of the Force. It's like the war doesn't matter. I don't know. It doesn't seem right. I think it's because they think differently, or don't think. You and me, we had Alderaan and my aunt and uncle. And if someone were to just blasé explain it away, oh, it's that Darth Vader's fault, it's because he fell, I'd want to punch them! They're just dismissing all those other lives. So what they don't feel the Force- they are still the Force, right? They keep telling me how all living things create it._

 _There's so many contradictions. There has to be light and dark sides. There has to be balance, but the dark side is an easier path. To what? Living things create the Force yet the Force is bigger than all things._

 _I don't know. Sometimes I get frustrated. I miss you._

 _Love, Luke_

The Force contained, among many things, destiny. There was no time, just a morass of life's moments, yet there was a timeline. Placing stone upon stone was symbolic of that. The movement, the concentration, the action. One thought led to another, which led to the past, which led to the future.

Yet the future wasn't clear, which Luke took to mean the future was fluid. Luke had understood long ago his destiny was to confront Darth Vader. He was still avoiding that confrontation, but the call to Dagobah, Yoda's insistence on relating the fall of Vader to the dark side, Vader's appearance in the dark cave… the pressure was building up. Yoda couldn't see how Luke's confrontation would work out, and Luke saw his own face under Vader's helmet. _I can win, I can die, or I can fall to the dark side._

 _Dear Leia,_

 _I've been thinking a lot about how I came here. It was more than Han giving me the coordinates. It was Ben, telling me the name of a planet as I lay dying. He must have known Han would find me soon. And I didn't just arrive: I lost control of the ship and landed deep in swamp mud. I'll just voice my suspicions here- I think Master Yoda caused my landing. He used the Force. Is that possible, you'll ask? I think so. And I'll tell you how I know- because he was able to lift my ship from the mud. Like I can lift stones._

 _I disappointed him again. He expected me to be able to do it. He says a ship is no heavier than a stone, not with the Force. So he's leaving me alone, but he's the only one sulking now. I went to the ship, to check it out, and this thought sneaked in. It was "I'm free." I can leave now, if I want. And it's the best thing Master Yoda could have done for me, though I'm sure he thinks it was a mistake. He was kind of holding me hostage here, don't you see. And every day, seeing that ship covered in water, more and more every day with all this rain, and I felt like I was sinking, too, you know? That I would never leave. Or if I did leave it would be from their creating another circumstance, like me dying in the snow, or crashing in a swamp. They are directing everything. Even that place, that dark cave. Why would such a place be? On a swampy planet? When everything else is just the struggles of life? These snakes and these bats, they're just here. There's no good, no bad. I think Master Yoda made that place. To test me._

 _I don't know. I've told you before there's something they are leaving out. Something they want, and they are using me to get it done. So I can leave now. But I'm not going to. The ship, and my distrust of Ben and Yoda, have been holding me back. They want me to learn, but for them. But I'm free now. I'm going to choose to keep learning, for me. And when I leave, it'll be me affecting my own destiny, not them. I think that's important._

 _Be proud of me, Luke_

There was a mystery about his father Luke was eager to get to the bottom to, but once again found his efforts thwarted. The first he knew of his father was a lie, perpetuated by his aunt and uncle. To protect him, he now knew. From the Empire. From himself? Did they fear not just his safety, but his destiny?

Ben only had glowing things to say. Cunning warrior, best star fighter pilot in the galaxy. A good friend.

Reckless, is what Yoda had to say. With much anger in him. And Luke was like him. Why would he think that, Luke wondered.

What was his father angry about? They made it sound as if his father's death was different for Vader than for any other Jedi he killed in the Purge. Personal. Were his father and Vader rivals? _I'm not angry,_ Luke confirmed to himself. About what? Being a moisture farmer? He sifted through the years of his memory, looking for this anger, and saw instead a loyalty. Loyalty to Owen and his trade, which he was expected to carry; loyalty to Ben and his tradition, which he was honored to take up; loyalty to Leia and her vision, for which he was glad to fight.

Waking, with a sense of loss and things gone all wrong. _And then you're as good as gone, aren't you?_

Vader knew Luke's destiny, apparently. Luke could sense him seeking. He was not passive. Eager, hungry. Luke knew he had to train harder. Everything Yoda told Luke, that the Force was his ally, that his strength derived from it, was true for Vader too.

What Luke learned from Master Yoda was that except for the Force, he was alone. He could not stop the eventual collision with Vader, and all he would have to help him survive it was the Force. Not Ben; not Master Yoda. Not the Alliance.

 _Dear Leia,_

 _Sometimes I get such a sense of you. It's hard to explain. Like a sudden breeze lifting hair. Your thoughts touch me. I think that's what it is. I feel Han in your thoughts too. You hold him close, but you don't feel lonely. I don't feel lonely either when I'm alone, because I have you. You, and I suppose Han, because you hold him close, will be with me when I confront Vader. Maybe it won't work out that you'll be There actually. It'd be great if Han could distract him with blaster bolts or you could cut off the controls to his life suit while I duel him. But I think you won't be there in person, but I'll carry you with me, close, and thoughts of you will help me._

 _No one can know my final destiny, not even me. I used to think of myself as an old man, telling stories of you and Han and the war but now when I think of the future I see you and Han, and you're not a princess and he's not a smuggler, but the two of you together are something new, and something different, and it's beautiful and it makes me want to cry because I might miss it._

 _I don't want you to miss it, though. Did you kiss Han's cheek for luck like you did mine? He could use it._

 _I may know my destiny but I'm not stupid. Don't worry, I won't rush headlong into battle with Vader without being really prepared. I suppose studying the Force is a lifetime endeavor, but I can't stay here sheltered forever._

 _Hold me in your thoughts, Luke_

"Focus," Yoda intoned.

R2 hovered in the air. Luke, standing on one hand, body extended and perfectly balanced, sought out stones with his eyes closed, mapping out how he'd design his hover sphere. He could bring the ship over now, he knew it, and the thought made him smile cockily.

 _I've been from one end of the galaxy to the other, and you are the only one I want to come back to._

Han.

"Concentrate," Yoda warned.

Where are you, Han? Luke thought. It was always Leia's voice and touch, Han there but relegated to the background. That was Han he heard just now, though. When? Now, of course, but when for Han?

Such a lovely place. Clouds, like on Ord Mantell, but thicker, loftier, more colorful. And buildings rose from the clouds, elegant, and the clouds traveled in between them. Han held Leia's hand. And then -

Painful anguish, despair, agonized screams-

Han was screaming. _Han-_ tough and unrevealing, in so much pain he screamed. And Leia, and Chewie- roaring and rattling. And Leia, seeing no sacrifice, seeing no purpose; the _uselessness_ of it all, and it was about to kill her-

 _Someone named uh, Skywalker._

 _Luke._

Han screamed.

Yoda let out a yell and everything fell to the ground. "Control! You must learn control!"

Luke ignored his painful elbow. "I saw a city in the clouds," he told Yoda, amazed. It was the first time he'd actually seen anything, anything physical besides what he already knew, in a time he couldn't identify.

Yoda looked sorry. "Friends you have there."

An extreme agitation gripped Luke. Whose test was this? Ben's? Yoda's? Why was Han screaming? Why was Leia almost broken?

"It is the future you see."

Vader's? Had he found a way to reach Luke? He'd learned his weakness.

Loyalty.

 _Leia_

 _This will be my last to you. I'm on my way. To a city in the clouds. I don't know what I'll find there. But I'm scared to think what I may find. Hang on, Leia. Just hang on. That's all I can say. I'm coming. Take care of Han._

 _He knew where I am. That's why. Why Vader chose him this time. Why Vader didn't need to know anything from him. Vader used the Force. He could see everything about Han, probably the second he met him. Ironic, that Vader's the one to sense his true worth when he's had to put up with Dodonna and Mon Mothma grumbling about his criminal nature._

 _Han would warn me, if he knew why they were making him scream like that, but you know this too: it's what you don't know that makes it worse. He'd warn me, but I wouldn't listen anyway. I'd come no matter what. Even if I knew it would cost me my life. What would kill me though, is learning either of you are dead. I'm sitting here hoping, hoping. Hoping I'm going to find you._

 _I'm coming. Please be there. Please be alright._

Luke saved the data file and turned it off before placing it in his jacket pocket. He checked the navigation screen. He had told R2, "show me all you have for cities in the clouds." A few had come up; no images but names and coordinates. And Luke had chosen one, because when he closed his eyes, Han's screams originated there.

Bespin.

He was desperately worried. Not for himself. He was alone. Yoda and Ben urged him not to go, but nor would they accompany him in any way. Not even through the Force.

It was a bitter blow. Like bankers whose investment just blew up in their face. Luke had promised to return but right now he thought he probably wouldn't, if he survived. They seemed like they were moving on.

Han and Leia were suffering because of Luke. Because Vader wanted Luke. He loved his friends too much to allow that.

 _I love you._

Luke wept.


	28. Stories

The Force will be with you, always, Ben had once told him. But not always Ben, because first he was killed and then secondly he abandoned Luke. _If you choose to face Vader now you must do it alone. I cannot interfere._

Luke wanted to ask, cannot, or will not? But instead he lied in answer, "I understand."

The Force _was_ with him now, and it was heartening, because if he'd had any choice in the matter, he'd ask for Force Han, and here he was now, sitting on some steps.

"Don't you remember?" Force Han was saying. "I told you that Vader was at both places, and that I was the only charter who would help."

"I do remember," Luke used his thoughts to talk with Force Han. "And you said if I got killed there'd be no refund. Will he kill me?"

Force Han shrugged. "The Force is always in motion."

"What does that mean exactly?"

Force Han gave Luke a push up the steps, where Darth Vader patiently stood waiting. "Come on, destiny awaits."

It was the cave all over again. Luke was in a dark place, this one spacious and artificial. Instead of roots to clamber up and into there were large tubes; hissing plumes of steam were angrier than the dank, warm earth. Clanks and noises of industry rather than wildlife, but still, the drone of Vader's breathing filled Luke's ears.

His mouth tasted metallic, like fear, and Luke swallowed to bring the Force in. It was the cave all over again, and Luke was still the student, but Vader was real.

They'd found each other, as they were fated to, somewhere in a city in the clouds. Luke had met only a little resistance. Someone at the head of a procession, heavily armed and leading the guard of something long, dark and heavy-looking, valuable to someone, had seen him and fired his blaster. An announcement was broadcast over the intercom about Imperial occupation, and the city had broken out into a panic, but Luke found himself going down, to the industrial parts of the city.

"Can he see you?" he asked Force Han now.

"He has his own Force. Whaddya got to remember?"

"Um," Luke thought.

"Use what you have," Force Han prompted, "and..."

"And find a weakness. The real Han told me that."

"Right, so get up there and fight."

"The Force is strong with you, young Skywalker," Vader began their confrontation. "But you are not a Jedi yet."

He had never heard Vader speak before. A deep bass, full of power and regret that only the passage of time can bring. Proud- proud of the Force, and somehow of Luke, that he possessed it; but resentful of the Jedi.

 _Maybe they abandoned him, too._ But that sounded sympathetic, and while it might help to know things of Vader, sharing sentiment with him would only hasten Luke's fall. Instead Luke brought up the things he'd managed to discover by studying the past, as much as Ben or Yoda would allow. He knew Vader had succumbed to the dark side of the Force, which if you listened to Yoda, meant that he acted on his emotions, had attachments, and took the easy path.

Which sounded a lot like Luke. Which was why he was not going to listen to Yoda.

That was the only thing that worried Luke, that Vader had insight into Luke's character when he should have none. Vader's callous use of Han was a cruel invitation, and he knew how Luke would respond.

And here they were. Luke fought for control, to push down the fear Vader had killed Han, and his mind filled with Leia's fight, and he saw for the first time the war for her was for love. _I won't fall,_ Luke told himself.

Luke thought of all the teachers he'd had and the things he'd learned and what to bring to the fight. This was his concept of the Force: his being was a summation of all the experiences each living thing had contributed for him. Leia's resolve and determination. Chewie's sense of honor. Rieekan, who'd once lectured him on being thorough and assessing resources. Ben, who was a proponent of patience, and Yoda of control. Owen, who constantly had to remind Luke to focus, and Beru, who would find the light side of the Force was more seductive than the dark, and his mother, who loved him too briefly. Han, who would tell him to use what he had and to find a weakness. His father, whom he'd never met but from whom he'd inherited his lightsaber. Even Lucky, who taught him to adapt.

Just like the cave, he would find only what he brought with him. He thought he was bringing rather a lot, but these were weapons of character, not violence.

 _This is our moment of destiny,_ Luke thought _. The future is in motion, and even he doesn't want to see._ It was a curious realization, so Luke activated his lightsaber and the blue light reflected off Vader's shiny black mask. Slowly, either from disuse or the same regret in Vader's voice, his red lightsaber flared to life.

Luke advanced, and Vader took a step back. Luke stepped forward again, and again Vader retreated. He watched Luke work it out.

 _He doesn't want to fight? Or is he toying with me?_

Force Han read his thoughts. "Toying. Definitely. He could have killed you thirty times already."

Luke swung, and Vader reacted instinctively, and red and blue blades intersected with a resounding spark of energy. Power flowed from the hilt into Luke's hand, making his whole body vibrate with joy and eagerness.

 _The dark side will join you at the fight,_ Yoda had said. Luke could see it flickering like a million flames all over Vader.

Luke was thrown with Vader's mind, landing heavily on his back and he had to roll out of the way as Vader jumped to him. Vader was definitely toying with him. "Your destiny lies with me, young Skywalker," Vader told him, landing lightly, and he spoke it to Luke as an incontrovertible fact, as if Vader was telling him his eyes were blue. "Obi Wan knew this to be true."

"No," Luke answered Vader, but he was talking to Ben, pleading, denying, and he lost focus and fell into a pit.

Force Han spoke. "Once upon a time," he said, "there was a fallen Jedi Knight."

A cold stench filled Luke's nostrils and machinery shrieked into activity.

The Force showed Luke four. One was grown lonely and old, master of only the desert; the second aged and sorrowed, master of only the swamp; and the third was master of nothing. He lived in darkness, a slave to his anger.

Luke recognized them all. The fourth, he suspected, might be himself, and resembled the third. But he wasn't a Jedi Knight yet, as Vader too was aware. Close, but not yet. Apparently, he might be. Alone was not exactly what he had in mind for his future, though.

He had grasped the Force enough to glimpse Time, just a moment, but it was enough to help him realize his story- the one of the farm boy, the Princess and the smuggler- somehow needed the other story to play itself out. The past connected the future. One was firmly set while the other malleable, changing. It was the actions of the present that bridged the two.

The Force was trying to give him a lesson, not the most opportune time, but he had a story for it to hear.

 _And so the farm boy traveled to the city in the clouds to battle the evil dark lord…_

His instinct warned his muscles and Luke leaped high in the Force, streaking unseen into the forest of tubes overhead.

"All too easy," Vader sounded oddly disappointed. "Perhaps you are not as strong as the Emperor thought."

"That's a good story," Force Han encouraged.

But it sounded more like Yoda and Ben's version of events. Yes, he was here, but he'd come for Han and Leia. Vader was a side note. An important one, but it wasn't the reason he was here. If Luke were in the audience, listening to Ben, who often hid the truth anyway, Luke would offer a correction. Raise his hand to interrupt, and say politely yet firmly, Not to battle the evil dark lord. To help his friends.

Yoda, who Luke also felt abandoned him, not even reluctantly offering to join Luke in his moment of destiny, believed Luke was rushing to his destiny prematurely. Which brought up an interesting concept, Luke thought. It meant you were fated to do something, become something, but you could choose when.

 _Always in motion, the future is._

Destiny was set, but time was fluid.

Luke liked that. There was Time, which was the Force, or there was time, a specific measurement beings invented because it was in their nature to keep track of things. And Master Yoda was confusing the two. He, the Master in the swamp, measured the physical time Luke spent training. And Yoda wanted more time with Luke, when Luke knew Time had come.

He didn't share Master Yoda's fear Luke would fall to the dark side. Yes, he'd failed the test in the cave when he severed his own head from Darth Vader's body, but that was Luke going against Luke. It went back to the nature of the story. Was Luke's destiny to defeat evil, or was it to preserve love and friendship?

Luke called his lightsaber to his hand, and took Han's advice to use what he had. Lightsaber to lightsaber and Luke would lose. He slashed open a tube, and hit Vader in the face with tibanna gas, feeling a bolt of pride that Vader had to amend his assessment. "Impressive."

Vader was caught off guard, long enough for Luke to lunge, slash and spin, and with a noise of surprise, Vader was the one now in the pit.

A Jedi defends, he remembered learning.

He could finish it now, though, the thought flickered to a burn. He could end Vader, the war. To have peace. For him. For Leia.

But Leia fought for love.

Peace, and lack of conflict, and broadness, so vast it was meaningless, or Leia, just Leia, part of him, in him. Greeting him with each day, laughing or eating or quarreling. Living. Sharing life.

He shut down his lightsaber, closed off the dark side. Best leave it to the sphere of war. _Leia, where are you?_

He sought the exit.

He had no idea where he was. He'd been following Leia through Cloud City. Sometimes her but more often her essence, her history as she walked the clean, white halls. At one point he sensed Han with her so he took that path and now he seemed to be somewhere in the bowels of the city, in the platform underneath, where the complicated system of repulsor and tractor generators kept the city floating among the clouds over the gas planet Bespin.

Suddenly those droning breaths, not even made irregular by the fight, and Vader was here- _how?-_ but there was no time, Vader would not leave him alone, _but I want Leia_ Luke protested, his body half turned after a wild swing and something huge and metal bashed into his side.

Eyes blurring, tears of pain, Luke lurched about, stumbling, out of control and out of the Force, and Vader was not talking now and definitely toying with him, weakening Luke, sending huge pieces of metal into him, breaking the city because he could, preparing Luke for his fall.

A port window shattered, and Bespin's atmosphere rushed in, and Luke fought for a stronghold, and then he thought, _but why?_ and he let himself get sucked out.

It was Bespin's night. The sky dark, but the clouds still had their colors. Peach and gray and pink or yellow.

"You're losing," Force Han observed.

"Where the hells were you?" Luke demanded. He was weary and he needed rest, but Leia was out here, somewhere. He could feel her.

"You lost focus."

The wind whipped her hair like his and it felt cool on her cheek as it did his. She was firing a blaster, troopers falling in her wake, fighting for love.

 _Once upon a time there was a Princess who sent a message to a farm boy..._

"You could learn from her, you know," Force Han said. _Her story is my story,_ Luke thought. Who should tell it, he wondered. He wasn't sure it should be him anymore, since he might not survive. And Han or Leia might not get to tell it either. It sounded so simple, but it wasn't really. It was a lot like these clouds that swirled over Bespin, blooming to rise hundreds of meters in the air, thick and substantial, only to be whittled away by the wind, scattered and shredded.

His story swirled among the clouds, and memories came together, of him, and Leia, and Han; _once upon a time there was a smuggler…_

"Ah, the smuggler," Force Han smirked.

Fight for love?

But before he could work out the lesson the wind howled a memory in his ear, _get your head out of the clouds, boy._

He felt amazement. What portent his uncle's frequent saying now had, Luke realized, for he was here, these were the clouds Uncle Owen must have meant, but couldn't have meant. Owen knew Luke, farm boy, dreamer of adventure, the one who couldn't be counted on to finish his chores. Those were Owen's clouds, just dreams. These were Luke's.

Did Owen know? Like he knew Luke was Force-sensitive but Luke didn't? Had Ben told him? Had Ben been able to see this future, swirling and in motion and indefinite, that long ago?

 _Do me a favor,_ Ben would ask of Owen before taking his leave, casting a final glance at the sleeping baby nestled in Beru's arms, _be sure he stays out of the clouds._

Luke had a special affinity for clouds. They were rare on Tatooine. The sky was clear, day in and day out. If Uncle had been tasked with keeping Luke grounded while he grew up, Tatooine was a good place.

The last cloud he'd seen was actually the smoke that hung over his burning homestead. And Luke had told Ben, "I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father."

A cunning warrior, Ben had said of his father. He could use some of that now. _I'm the son of Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight_ , Luke told himself. _And the Force is strong with me. Vader knows this to be true._

Young Skywalker, Vader called him. The name seemed to bother him, like it called up something unpleasant from his past, the deep voice melancholy and rich.

Force Han seemed pleased. "Use what you know," he said cheerfully.

He clambered back to his feet and found his way back inside. No doubt Vader would be waiting for him somewhere; stalking him as he had in the Force vision on Hoth. _Keep your friends close._ That had been Vision Vader's advice. Vision Vader followed Luke around Echo Base, watching Luke strengthen his ties with Han and Leia, build his family. And that vision had warned Luke of their danger.

Force Han said, "Ready to choose?"

And Luke asked, "I have a choice?"

Force Han sighed. Luke had forgotten that. He'd once been given a choice and after he made it thought that was the end of it. He'd chosen the Alliance over Jedi, Force vision Han warning him Vader would be at both places. So there was no escape from Vader, but Luke was free to decide how to meet him. _Only what you take with you._

 _I choose my friends,_ he told the Force.

He didn't even _hear_ Vader's giveaway breathing this time. Vader surprised Luke with a crushing blow Luke barely had time to block, almost falling to his knees. Vader advanced forcefully, forcing Luke onto a catwalk, talking again, taunting. "Don't let yourself be destroyed as Obi Wan did."

He was so arrogant, so superior, and no matter what Ben had done since there was no denying the beauty of his sacrifice, and Luke was not going to allow Vader to undermine it.

Luke was on the ground, Vader's sword at his throat, and if Vader didn't want to destroy him, then he would make him. He parried, and managed to get back on his feet, grit coloring his fighting style, determined to see the face under the mask, knowing it wouldn't be his.

The air hitched, the energies of their Force senses burst away in the error: Luke swung straight across; Vader expected him to bind, Luke knew it too late; Vader's blade swung in an arc from low to high, striking Luke at the wrist.

Luke screamed at the impact, the loss of his hand and father's lightsaber worse than the loss of his life. Vader remained crouched in position, not moving, as if he too was surprised by the violence of the moment.

And then Vader called him _Luke._ Was it a sick apology? "Luke, you've not yet realized your importance."

In shock, Luke couldn't believe Vader was still talking. Vader wanted Luke at his side when he overthrew the Emperor. He had betrayed the light side of the Force, joining Palpatine and killing the Jedi, and now the dark side wanted him to betray the Emperor, and kill again. It was unbelievable how... how deluded Vader was. He had just cut off Luke's hand and he was giving a recruitment speech.

Luke crawled away from Vader, but the cat walk ended and there was no where else to go. Horrified, he realized he'd cut off his own escape. His options were to fall to Vader, or to fall to his death.

Vader closed up the gap between them, still talking, as if all he wanted was Luke's participation. The weird thing was he was sincere. He _believed_ it. "Obi Wan never told you what happened to your father."

"He told me enough. He told me you killed him," Luke spat out. He clutched on to a pole, dots of light below him, frightened for the first time. He was incomplete; the Force bled out of the stump of his lost hand. He was scared of Vader, terrified of mere words and thoughts; powerless to fight them.

"No, Luke. _I_ am your father."

Luke stared, the edges of his cleanly cut wrist nauseating him, his father, Vader, Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi who came before Luke, the being who stood before him, powerful, cunning, a good friend. "No," Luke's horror blossomed, like blood in water. "No!"

But it was true. This black being, capable of such abuse and terror- his father lived. His father was not a navigation pilot, his father was not one of the great Jedi Knights, his father was not killed by Darth Vader: his father _was_ Darth Vader. There was no difference. Anakin and Vader were the same. As Vader stood before him Luke wondered if there had been an Anakin at all.

Lies, so many lies. By so many, over the years. Again and again. And this is what Yoda and Ben didn't want him to know, but wanted him to accomplish. Luke must defeat Darth Vader. But he must not know he slew his own father.

Destiny. Family and love. The city in the clouds, where Luke won and lost. He stared at Vader's outstretched hand, offering safety and family, the hand that severed his own.

 _I won't let Vader win. That means I'm going to die._ Regret filled Luke. Just when he realized what he was- not who; he wasn't ready for that yet- it was over. He would never know more.

This death felt like those other ones, that came close but never happened. Over Yavin, the garbage masher. The wampa and the blizzard. He looked down. Really, this was different. There wasn't a way out. He was going to die.

 _Aren't I?_

Force Han shrugged. "You might. You could check, you know. Masters aren't the only ones who look into the future and find maybes."

The Force moved rapidly, darting this way and that, and Luke saw, yes, there was death, perhaps, but- but- he wasn't sure; there was white, not as bright and clean as it had once been, and small and warm, and it felt like Leia.

Luke let go of the pole.

He fell and fell, and didn't care how far or for how long. It was like the lies all around him, sending him down, plummeting, stripping away little pieces of him.

Vader did not come to find him. The city shut itself up on him. Luke didn't know if that was Vader's work, giving Luke up for dead, or if it was a night time security precaution. He found himself under the platform where the tractor and repulsor generators were located, hanging by an antenna. The metal was thin, supremely uncomfortable and cold, his missing hand throbbed impossibly. It wasn't even there, how could it feel? Deserted, by Ben and Yoda, and Han was gone, for nothing. They failed, Luke failed, Vader had failed.

 _Leia,_ he thought into the night, we're suffering. _Hear me._

He sat there, unwilling to let himself fall farther, into oblivion. The sky was a slate blue but the clouds still had their colors. He didn't care what happened to him. Nothing mattered. Leia's life was what kept him hanging on. He didn't know why, really. _I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you._

"Leia."

He thought back to the first time he and Leia rode the _Falcon_ together, laying on bunks in the crew cabin, and they were fresh from Alderaan's destruction and Ben's death, and they had talked. Just talked; weary and broken, but comfortable on the ship and with each other. Finding each other, finding ways to talk about Han, and their futures.

 _That was my destiny. And I didn't even realize it. The moment I chose when._

There was a lot of ship traffic, beings still fleeing the city. Not much time had passed since he last saw Leia, he reckoned. So he sat, knowing she was safe, feeling her leave, and when her sense completely left him he'd decide then whether to keep falling or not. Probably he would. "Leia," he said like it was his dying wish, and closed his eyes, leaning his cheek on the cold metal.

But she kept coming stronger, almost closer somehow. Her beautiful face, _Luke, hang on_. He couldn't stop feeling her. It was lovely. Her love, her friendship. In her, he would find understanding. In her he would find-

-Home.

The _Falcon_ was under him.

 _My gods._ It all came together, and Luke finally got it. The lessons: sitting in his kitchen, meeting his father, who looked like Owen, the bringing of the two babies- one to Tatooine, the other to Alderaan, where they grew up, sat in kitchens, had lives, and lost homes.

Home and family didn't mean blood, or earth. Owen wasn't even related to Anakin Skywalker, yet he had raised Luke. In his visions his father looked like Owen, because Owen was like a father to him. Luke had lost his home, and so had Leia, and on a larger level they had found a new one with the Alliance, but there was a smaller one, a tighter one.

Of course. He ate all the meals he could on the _Falcon,_ didn't he? It wasn't just for the prospect of real food, or for Han's cooking, but the nourishment came from those gathered around the lounge table: Leia, Chewie and Han.

A man emerged from the lift onto the hull. He was dark-skinned, handsome in the way Han might be if he had spent his life well fed and comfortable. He looked unhappy and out of his element, and the right side of his jaw was swollen.

"Give me your hand," the strange man called, reaching up his own as Vader had.

Luke tucked his arm across his chest.

The man looked behind him. "Come on, the Empire's on our tail and Leia doesn't want you shot off."

Through the intercom, Luke heard Leia say a name, and Chewie yelled, "False pilot! Do you have him or don't you?"

The sound of their familiar voices was all Luke needed to let himself drop to the man's side and they rode the lift back down to the ship's main access corridor.

Leia ran to him so fast and hugged him so fiercely she didn't notice his hand.

"He's barely standing," the stranger said. "Leia, I've got to-"

"Go." Her voice was commanding, and the man let go of Luke, passing him carefully to Leia, and he left for the cockpit.

"Leia," Luke gasped out. They held each other, and in her embrace Luke found Han; every part of her had something of him. _Once upon a time, there was a smuggler who was caught._

Han, standing in a crowd of laughing people, his half-filled mug in his hand, the only one aware Luke was snapping a holo. Staring straight at him, with a secret smile.

"I'm sorry," Luke told Leia, and Force Han too, who was nonchalant. "There are worse things. He heard what should have been said. He might be lost to you now, but in a way he is saved."

"Oh, Leia," Luke squeezed her hard. He wanted to be happy for them, and he was, but he wanted to laugh and imagine Han and Leia playfully thumbing their noses at Vader, who ordered their torture, or swinging their clasped hands high, proclaiming victoriously with grand humor, "we're in love!"

But Leia Organa fought for love, didn't she. She was nodding at Luke positively, though a tear had to be wiped away. "We'll get him." She kept nodding, her lips pressed together.

Time was fluid. Luke had left too soon but Han wasn't dead. _Use what you have_ , his Han of the Force told him.

 _I have one hand_ , he answered Force Han.

 _So you do._ Force Han would not let Luke mope.

 _I have a father now._

 _That's true too._

 _Not a good one._

 _Maybe not._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leia told him he'd gone almost catatonic aboard the _Falcon._ He didn't respond to her. "You kept saying your father killed Han," she said. "I was scared for you."

They brought him to one of the IMFs, Independent Medical Facility.

He felt a little better now. Not whole, by any means, but fluids and bacta and pain relief were helping his body. He thought his spirit might take a little longer.

"So after you left Hoth-" Leia encouraged. They were trying to assemble a time line. She was sitting beside him on his bed, her ankles crossed, staring at her knees. That was one difference Luke noticed. She didn't meet his eyes as much as she used to. It was either the hand, or Han, he didn't know which.

The strange man, whom Chewie called False Pilot, stood against a wall away from the others. Leia had introduced him as Lando. Chewie was at Leia's side. Luke had learned of the rivalrous friendship between Han and Lando and that Lando factored heavily in the choice of where to limp the _Millennium Falcon._ In fact, the reason for the man's swollen jaw had been Han.

"Didn't Han tell you?" Luke asked. She shook her head no. Luke looked over at Lando, hesitant about describing a Force vision to someone he didn't know. "Ben told me. That night in the snow." A slight crease formed between her brows. "And Han got me the coordinates, and I went. Instead of rendezvousing. And you went-"

"Nowhere, slowly," Leia half joked. "And places we shouldn't. In an asteroid field, down a space slug's mouth-"

"That wasn't Han's fault," Chewie rumbled.

"-floated with the Destroyer's space waste. We had no hyperdrive."

"Sounds like I missed a lot."

"It took that whole time to get to Bespin."

Luke frowned. That was a hell of a long time to be in space. "What'd you eat?"

Chewie grunted and Leia smiled at her lap. "Remember those four cases of nutrient bars Supply refused to purchase because they were out of date?"

"Han got them dirt cheap," Chewie said.

"There's three dozen left."

Luke looked over at Chewie. "Out of date? They make you sick?" The Wookiee looked thinner, he thought. And Leia had felt smaller, earlier, when they hugged. She had been checked in too, "for the robes," she told Luke. "I can't stay in this snow suit one moment longer." She was also given fluids and told to rest, but was otherwise physically unharmed. Her spirit would need some time, too, Luke thought.

Leia waved the expiration date away. "We ran out of kaf and tea. We had to boil the water reserves from the 'fresher."

"I had the same stew every day," Luke said. "Made with fresh swamp water."

"You aren't thinner."

"No, I'm in shape, actually. Best I've been probably, except… now," he finished lamely, making sure his stump was under the blanket.

"What did you learn?" Leia sailed on with her chatter, not letting Luke mope.

Luke spoke slowly. He hadn't yet decided if any of it had been a good idea. "How to make the Force my ally. You heard me call you through it."

"I did," she nodded solemnly. "I made us turn around because I knew where you were. Luke," she recrossed her ankles. "I don't understand how you _knew._ The timing. We didn't know until just before Han went in the carbonite you were there."

The man called Lando shifted. "Actually, I think Vader knew what he was going to do and what would happen. He arrived before you did. And allowed no signs of Imperial occupation to show and put you on your guard."

"You took the coward's path, False Pilot," Chewie said. "You should have warned us."

"And what? He was breathing down my neck! I might have at that if I'd known what ship he was looking for. He said Rebels. No way I expected Han Solo to be a Rebel."

"He's not," Leia said. "And Chewie, what then? Where would we have gone? On sublights, low on fuel, the Empire able to calculate all possible landings. Without hyperdrive there wasn't much we could do."

Chewie bobbed his head, unwilling to admit Leia was right.

"There's no time in the Force," Luke said. "Once Vader got what he wanted, he sent it through the Force, when I needed to get it, I guess. It's hard to explain."

"What did he send, exactly?"

"A… message. Of you, and Han. Images of the clouds and buildings. That was all. Han was… is the carbonite process painful?" Luke decided to ask. "I felt a terrible pain from him. That's what made it urgent."

Leia winced. "We were separated at first," Chewie said. "Han said he was put on the scan grid. I only had noise, in a cell. I didn't have it that bad."

Luke looked at Leia. "Neither did I," she contributed. "He said he wasn't interrogated. And he wouldn't know anything; not really. Not about the Alliance, so I don't understand why Vader ordered the voltage up and up until-"

"For me," Luke said quietly. "That was the message. Han helped lead me to where I was. Vader saw he'd lead me away again."

"But Han doesn't have the Force."

Luke shrugged his right shoulder, and thought _my hand is missing._ "We're friends. That's all Vader needed." Luke shifted his blanket again, making sure his wrist stayed hidden. It was oddly comforting, to know that Han had been able to talk; that the three were together after a time and that Han had Leia and Chewie like Luke did now.

Lando left the wall where he had his back propped against it. "Look, I've said I'm sorry," he said harshly. "I've gone over it a thousand times. From what I knew, and then I had to consider the City-"

"False Pilot feels guilty," Chewie leaned down to whisper in Luke's ear.

"Well, I know how that is," Luke said consolingly, and Leia nodded beside him.

"I know how it stands," Lando said with conviction. "I'd feel the same way. If you want to, just, drop me off somewhere, I understand. But just so you know, I want to help. More than I – have. I will help. I hope you'll accept it."

"I don't understand, it's true, False Pilot," Chewie said. "A Wookiee would never wrestle with such a decision. But then that Wookiee would be dead and all would still be lost. So I'm not saying you did the wrong thing."

Leia was looking between the two. "When are you leaving, Chewie?"

He cocked his head at her. "Han entrusted you to me, Princess. I do not leave without you. When Skywalker is discharged we will return to the Alliance, and we will work out a plan."

"I'm having my- I get my-" Luke faltered. "Tomorrow." He was going to be fitted with a prosthetic. A manufactured nerve stimulus response system would be implanted in his brain, and he was told it would command the prosthetic to move like a real hand. A droid had already been in to measure his skin tone to create the covering.

He was told it was top of the line. Leia was paying for it. She wanted the best for him.

Leia patted his leg twice. "It'll make a huge difference, Luke. You'll see."

It was easy for her to say so, for her to imagine it so. She didn't have to look at it all the time, see the wrist that looked so unnatural, like a cuff. Or feel the twinges of pain, or intend to do something- anything, brush his teeth, button a shirt, and not be able to.

"I don't think I'm going to like my hand," he confessed shyly to her. It wouldn't matter anyway how good it worked. It would always be a reminder of what happened. Leia had an adoring father. Luke's cut his hand off the first time he met him.

He worried too, about the heritage. His father was a fallen Jedi, and Luke feared the blood they shared. He thought everyone could tell his potential for darkness, like it leaked out of his soul, or sat on his skin like a rash. How would Wedge take it? And Talna? If he ever saw her again? She'd be repulsed.

"I already don't," he sulked. "I'm damaged."

"Oh, Luke," Leia sighed. "Look at me. Do I look like I have difficulties? And I'm Irreparable Leia."

He smiled a little. "At least your name rolls off your tongue. And you're not irreparable."

"Then you're not damaged."

"Fine." He stewed a moment in self-pity, and everyone let him. It was moments like this he missed Han the most, because the tactless smuggler wouldn't tolerate it and come up with some distraction.

"I left my X-Wing on Bespin," he said to everyone instead. Leia looked up sharply at him. "I don't think there's a security issue to worry about. I've always had R2 as my copilot. The coords were always downloaded into him, and he's here with us."

"Of course I still have a contact there," Lando was rubbing his mustache thoughtfully. "I'm sure the Empire will strip it. But I should be able to get it back. I doubt the Empire is going to stay, don't you?" He looked to Leia. "Once they regulate control of the gas mine."

"They'll install a Moff to watch over it," Leia said acidly. "He'll live in the penthouse suite and play in your casinos. I'm sure you'll be able to swipe the X-Wing from under his nose."

Lando stood straight. "I'll go now, then. Chewie can give me a ride. And then I'll fly it straight to Tatooine, if that's alright. The _Falcon_ shouldn't be seen round there, anyway. Or a Wookiee."

"Luke," Leia touched Luke's injured arm lightly. "Luke, I'm not going back," Leia said slowly, realization coming with each new word. "I'm not going to Home One. I'm going to stay away, until we get Han."

Chewie patted Leia on the head. "I am rich," he said somberly, and explained at Luke's questioning glance, "Han asked me to honor his life's pledge to the Princess. So now I have two."

Chewie was the only being who could view a debt as something to treasure, Luke thought. "Han swore a debt to you?" he asked Leia.

She had said something to Han. _I love you._ Luke heard it echo repeatedly in her head.

Chewie continued the explanation. "Not in words. Not the Wookiee oath. His request to me made sure I would live, that the troopers would not be forced to shoot me. And the Princess too." He touched a long finger to a spot on his chest. His heart, Luke realized.

Luke nodded, and his eye twitched. "I know," he said.

"Anyway," he continued in a lighter tone, to Leia, "you've been missing this long, what's another week?"

The corner of Luke's mouth allowed a smile. He had to do something about his father, which meant he had to become powerful, just the same as his father was, but he had achieved his destiny, and he had come home, and he wasn't going to recklessly throw it away ever again. "I'm with you, then. I'm not going back either."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _I think I've read they rendezvous with the Alliance at the end of ESB, though I'm not sure it's definitely stated in the movie (I see X-Wings flying about) and that's where Luke gets his new hand, so I hope you don't mind if I deviate just a tad and have them fly to a medical outpost instead. It makes things simpler, and ties up a few loose ends between films._

 _As always, thank you so much for reading and all your support!_


	29. Evolution

Luke gave his data board to Leia to read once they were back on board the _Falcon_ because it contained a record of the evolution of a Jedi. It had nothing on there about Vader's identity, or of Luke's for that matter, but he wanted her to learn not only what happened to him, but what had been important to him.

She needed to see it. She needed to _know_ what had made her so angry on Ord Mantell was still the reason Luke did everything.

There was some discussion of what to do, where to go. Leia had already said she would not return to the Alliance and Luke would go wherever she was.

He had promised to return to Dagobah, to finish his training, but something told him he didn't need Yoda anymore. The Force was in him, energy asking to be harnessed. It was wild and drifted throughout all things. It did not care that Luke had an evil father, or that Ben had failed his pupil. It was merely energy; beautiful and free, and if he listened to it and only it, he could be strong.

And he didn't want to talk, just yet. He didn't want their excuses, their reasonings. He had made his decision on Dagobah: Han and Leia were his priorities. He could feel Ben trying to communicate with him, and he could feel Vader, and he knew if he let them each would just try and manipulate him further, take advantage of his tender feelings.

Chewie thought the best place to establish a base of operations for Han's rescue was where the rescue would take place: Tatooine.

"You're right, Chewie," Luke had nodded. "It's the only place to go."

They left it to Luke to choose where. He didn't want to go to Ben's, even though of all places it was the best choice. At the edge of the Judland Wastes, rocky and hard, sparse. The Jawas didn't venture to the Wastes. Probably fairly livable without much effort. But Luke wanted nothing to do with Ben right now. He wasn't going to make use of Ben as Ben had used Luke.

Any of the ports, Mos Espa or Eisley, were too risky. And Luke was a farm boy; not a port boy. He knew the Darklighters would house them, and graciously too.

But it was fitting that he let Han finish his destiny. It felt right, though Luke was apprehensive about returning to the place his aunt and uncle had brutally died. He would go home, not just to Tatooine, where Jabba the Hutt was awaiting delivery of Han, but he would go home, to the Lars homestead.

The loss of Han bothered him more than he could say. Bothered all of them- Chewie, Lando, Leia- for different reasons. But Luke knew what Han was to him now, to Leia too, and he refused to believe the smuggler's story was finished.

 _His future is not uncertain,_ he thought determinedly to the Force, to Ben, to Yoda, to whomever would listen. _Do you hear me?_

Luke dragged a palm over his face, thoughts of Han and Leia threatening to drag him into despair. Then he held his hand up, the prosthetic one, and regarded it with supreme detachment.

It was his hand now. His brain now contained an implant that gave the hand orders and it responded. Biological engineered nerve stimuli that prompted muscular reactions. Something to that effect. Luke hadn't really cared to listen. He insisted there was a minute delay, though the medical droid was extremely satisfied with its performance. "As good as the real thing," it had pronounced, and Luke said, "But you're a droid."

He had to admit it looked natural, but it was the lack of sensation he missed. Just now, the hand over his face, and his cheeks registered the pressure was too heavy while the hand gave him nothing.

Was that Vader's problem? Breathing with the help of a life suit, artificial limbs giving him extra height and strength, but no feeling? Is that why he succumbed to the dark side? Had he become more mechanical that the surge of his emotions was all he had left to feed the Force?

From Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader. Another evolution, from man to monster, and both were Luke's father.

He hadn't revealed to Leia yet Darth Vader's identity. She had made a comment, before he'd been fitted with his new hand, calling Darth Vader a monster. Of course she said it for Luke, to support him and let him know he should and could be angry about his awful injury, the loss of a hand; to let him know she was still angry about her torture aboard the Death Star.

And he had thought, _don't say that._ It had just crept out, surprising him. He felt like only he was allowed to call him a monster. He would, and did, but couldn't tolerate the same opinion coming from someone else. And too, he thought _if you call him a monster, then you're calling me a monster._ And he could barely look at Leia sometimes when he thought of what she had undergone on the Death Star at the hands of his father. He felt- guilty. He shouldn't. It was his father. Luke told himself that every time he looked in the reflector, but the problem was, he might also be looking at his father.

Leia was inflexible and Luke was a coward. That was how they came to be after they lost Han. To Leia, Darth Vader was only horrible. Luke was scared to tell her the truth.

How powerful Vader was, Luke realized, that people who knew him couldn't say what he was out loud. Ben had no doubt sought an answer in the Force. _What will happen if the boy knows?_ And the Force had answered, _maybe he'll kill his father, or maybe he'll join him. Perhaps he'll be so repulsed he'll do neither._

Ben had received his answer when Luke was told the truth, and none of what the Force foretold had come to pass. He had not killed his father and he had not joined him. And he wasn't going to do nothing. He wasn't sure what yet, but he was going to study it some more. He would come up with something. He had to. For Leia, for the galaxy. For himself.

He was horrified, but he had to admit, barely to his cowardly self, he had been repulsed at first... yes, the death's head helmet, the breathing, but also he was... he wanted to know more... he was fascinated?... He wanted to know if it was in him, too. He wanted to know _what happened._ Was this the beginning of a new destiny? Was his overactive imagination, his dreams, his lack of focus and dissatisfaction... was he like his father?

Luke sighed and looked over at Leia, quietly reading, an intense, emotional expression on her face. _My father tortured you_ , she should know, but he couldn't say it. How the man Anakin Skywalker, with Luke's face under the mask, could cause such pain to Leia, try and break her spirit, her vivaciousness, everything Luke loved about her...

Had he known of Luke? Had he known his wife, if that's what she was, was due to give birth?

"Did you ever hear a Jedi would have a family?" Luke asked her suddenly.

Leia looked up from the data board and flicked her eyebrows quickly. "Well. They weren't supposed to. But my father told me once about two Jedi. They fell in love, and were given a choice. Either separate, or leave the Order. They left. I imagine they weren't the first."

Luke tried to imagine being commanded to give up the things you loved. It was an impossible choice, he thought. Was Vader told that? Give up your lover and your child. Never know them, or never know the Force again.

Was that all it took to make him turn to the dark side? Sure, Luke could see feeling resentful toward his superiors. But to take the sword to them- _kill_ them? All?

"Would you be able to?" he asked. "Do you think that's fair?"

"No." She shook her head. "You know, in a way, I've had my own Order." She smiled faintly. "The Princess Order. I didn't realize until recently how a part of me has been resisting it. You've been learning the ways of the Force, Luke." Leia waved the data board at him. "It doesn't mean you have to subscribe to the Order."

"You mean-" Luke's mouth dropped open. _Not like my father before me._ "I love talking with you," he said earnestly.

Leia laughed at him. "Did I help you?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes," he declared, though he still couldn't bring himself to tell her all he knew. "We talked about this before, didn't we? The Princess Order. The pressure of conventions. Arranged marriages, that kind of thing. C3PO was your secretary." She nodded at him with a smile. "I was surprised- gladly- you decided not to return to the Alliance. I guess I expected you to."

A shadow crossed her face. "It's funny how it takes certain things to make you realize something. It's what happened to Han. It's that he was frozen, in this big block of., of… stone, carbonite. Anyone else but Han, and I probably would have returned."

She rubbed the data board thoughtfully. "I think even if he were killed, or cuffed and led away, alive, to Jabba the Hutt, I think I might have returned. Because it's what he always led us to expect to happen, didn't he? But with him on hold, waiting-"

Leia broke off suddenly, leaning forward into Luke and speaking fervently. "I saw me. My role in the Alliance. Yes, I'm Princess Leia. Yes, I was the one who obtained stolen plans to the Death Star. And because of that Alderaan was destroyed. And then, I was this poster princess- _don't let what happened to her happen to your world. Join the Alliance and end the Empire-_ this living tragedy, and no one let me move forward from it."

 _Except Han,_ Luke thought.

"Oh sure," she waved her hand sarcastically, "they let me write speeches and made me a member of High Council. And I agree with it all, don't think I don't. I'm a hell of a recruiter."

Luke smiled faintly. "You are."

"It started with Vrakith IV, remember?"

Luke nodded, and she continued. "I was persistent. I was dogmatic. But I followed procedure. Convention, if you will. I put in for leave and was denied. Repeatedly. I applied for visas and was denied. Repeatedly. I let them make me wait. My people, what was left of Alderaan, Luke, were on Vrakith IV, and I let them tell me no.

"I realized, once you two brought me there, the Alliance had no right to keep me from my people. To _deny_ us. I accepted it; I thought, it is war, after all; but then, I saw all that life, Luke. The families. And the traditions. The heritage, continuing. I missed it so. War couldn't stop it. War can't kill love. But it's the reason we fight."

Luke shook his head, marveling at how similar their paths were. Such different backgrounds and experiences yet each came to value the same thing. The world built around home and family was paramount to their identity.

"And then I knew what would happen if I returned. I would submit a recovery mission for him-"

"And they'd make you wait."

"Worse," she laughed bitterly. "They wouldn't approve it. I would rejoin their fight, this new Death Star, while Han was me- waiting, frozen. For who knows how long. Maybe forever, if we lose.

"A war needs heart. And soul," she finished. "Without them, it can't be won. The Alliance didn't want to return mine when Alderaan was destroyed. Han did. So I choose Han."

"I did the same thing," Luke confessed. "I had the chance- I think the Order want me to- I think they think I'm the only one who can defeat Vader. I decided there was more to war. I decided that… you're right," Luke felt wholly inarticulate next to Leia's composed thoughts. "There's life inside war. It's small and maybe the big generals and emperors think it's insignificant, but that's what makes everything worth it." Luke thought back to Vrakith IV and the little boy digging with the stick. "I chose you and Han, too."

Leia smiled, and held up his data board. "I see that. Thank you for sharing this. It's lovely. I can see how you grew, how you developed, not just your powers, but your sense of self."

He felt shy. "It's my evolution."

"It is." She was smiling.

Chewie had dropped Luke and Leia off in the desert, in the open where no one would see them because only fools were outside this time of day, but a short walk to Anchorhead. Then he had quickly risen to hide the freighter in the canyons, and would stay aboard there, at least until Lando returned with Luke's X-Wing.

As they walked, the heat crackling through his boots, he told her about the desert. How dangerous the heat was, how important water was. That she should never venture out on her own, as his grandmother had, and that the Tuskan Raiders were frightening to the humans with whom they shared the desert. He told her the nights were cold, and the loud sort of burping noise she'd hear would be the call of bantha.

She had done her research, as she always did, so when they walked into Anchorhead she knew what model land speeder she wanted and how much to pay.

Luke listened as Leia haggled with a Jawa salesbeing, C-3PO translating. She patiently keyed up her data board to show the Jawa that new ones were listed cheaper on Coruscant than the price he was demanding for a used model here.

Luke thought about it for a moment, then hesitantly, guiltily, as if unsure it wouldn't start him down a path he couldn't turn around from, surreptitiously waved his two fingers and thought at the Jawa, _you will take 1400 credits._

C-3PO translated the answering squeaks. "He says he will take fourteen hundred credits."

"Sold," Leia said swiftly.

They purchased food and comm'd Chewie and returned to the _Falcon_ in their new speeder. The Wookiee walked around it appreciatively. "Why didn't you rent one?" he asked Leia, reading over the bill of sale.

"It's more advantageous to buy and sell than to rent, " Leia answered. "Besides, we don't know how long we'll need it. Hand me the receipt," she asked, holding out her hand, and then tucked it carefully back in her pouch.

"For your budget?" Luke teased offhand.

"I'll present Han a bill when he gets out," she said, completely deadpan.

Luke laughed and it felt good. "The perfect way to show him how much we missed him."

They left some of the provisions with Chewie. It was important he not be seen. Nobody wanted Jabba put on alert that an angry Wookiee was here to pay his debt. From the Falcon, they brought a generator, battery, and fuel, lamps, bedding, tools, general cleaning supplies, and a cooling unit.

He gave Leia one last chance. He wanted her to be with him. He couldn't not bring her home when there was a home to return to. "It's going to be rough living for a bit, until I get power restored. You sure you don't want to stay here on the _Falcon?_ "

She shook her head no. "We've had worse conditions," and smiled at him gamely. "All I need is a crate to sit on, a blanket to cover me, a light to read by, and some blue milk. Oh, well, I'd prefer a 'fresher but I can do without for a day."

He smiled at her. "Alright, let's get moving."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And so it was Han who brought Luke home.

Things had been set in motion long ago, Luke realized, because it was he who sent Han here, to the Lars homestead, to prepare for Luke's arrival, three years in the future. Damn Force, he thought, that never spoke clearly, but knew all.

They stood at the upper lip of the courtyard, what Owen Lars' father had dug twenty feet out of the sand maybe fifty years ago.

Luke kept opening and clenching the fist of his new hand.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Leia asked quietly.

"Which do you think is worse," he asked her now, "not seeing the ruins, or seeing them?"

She squeezed his real hand. "Both, I think," she said.

There was no cloud of smoke, no smell of fire. No bodies. The walls were blackened, but to Luke's surprise not crumbling. The house was well built; dry, hard adobe. Inside, nothing was left. Just ash, settled over the sand like a black dust.

"Damn Jawas," he swore. "They took everything!" He knew he was misdirecting his anger. The Jawas did exactly what he knew they would do. And anyway the important parts had been taken before they came.

He stood in the kitchen. "I had a dream once you drank blue milk with me in here," Luke told Leia. He held his arms out wide in the center of the room, to show her where the table stood. It looked so different empty. Unfamiliar even.

"I'll drink blue milk with you," she offered.

He led her to the courtyard. "They're in here."

There was an unnatural mound of sand against the wall that faced the suns' rise. Underneath it, Luke knew, would be the durocrete crypt that Han and the Darklighters had poured for his aunt and uncle. It didn't yield to the wind like the rest of the sand did, and the desert bulged slightly over it.

He'd been afraid to come back. He was a coward. He couldn't face what he'd left behind, what Han must have found when the Darklighters brought him. Even in his memories, his boyhood home was forever altered. Where he rode around the farm with Uncle Owen in his mind's eye, a cloud of billowing black smoke followed him. When he chatted with Beru about his latest Skyhopper adventure, and she was at the stove, cooking, he knew too her charred corpse was lying outside.

It wasn't as bad as he anticipated though. It was quiet, yet oddly peaceful. And it was a relief to not find the horror he expected. He would have to see the Darklighters, thank them for the care they provided while he was gone.

Leia went to the wall. She wanted to mark her respect, and asked Luke before arrival if they would find flowers in Mos Espa. Luke had told her the tradition was glass. It was flowers in Alderaan, but in the desert they died faster than death. Glass got its start from a grain of sand, and so it would return, eroded and smoothed, a part of the desert.

They had scrounged for something on the _Falcon._ Chewie offered to break a glass from the drinking supplies but Luke didn't want to have anything be destroyed on his behalf.

"The playing beads, Chewie," Leia suddenly said, and went to a small hatch Luke had never seen opened before in the lounge. "It's a Shooting Stars set," she explained to Luke, holding up small marbles. "They're perfect. Round, like a planet." She selected the blue one with the amber vein going through the middle.

For Alderaan, he knew without asking. Luke chose the transparent orange one. "This one looks like Tatooine's big sun. It's OK, Chewie? Han won't miss them?"

Luke had discovered during the trip that Chewie didn't mind if he mentioned Han at all, but Leia did. It wasn't that she refused to talk about him, but it had to be on her terms, because it hurt. Luke preferred her eyes growing soft over her lips tightening into a line of disapproval and denial. That was good, Luke thought; the way it should be. If Han been taken on Ord Mantell she probably never would have spoken about the smuggler on the Death Star, her refusal so powerful that it would almost alter Luke's memory of the event. _Wait,_ he might tell himself, _how did we get away from those stormtroopers? Didn't someone chase after them?_

"Just on top?" Leia asked now, and he nodded.

"We leave it for the desert," he told her. "Sand to glass, glass to sand." He carefully placed his glass bead, resting his new hand on the sand, waiting to see if it felt the heat, but there was no sensation. He rose from his squatted position, thinking of what lay beneath the sand that was not really left for the desert, but sheltered, housed.

"I'm home finally," he said in eulogy. "Aunt Beru, Uncle Owen. Sorry it took me so long. I still have the droids." He and Leia stood in silence together. Luke wondered what she was thinking about. Han or family on Alderaan. Maybe both. He was thinking about Anakin Skywalker, venturing out to the Lars homestead to inquire about his mother.

He must have been- what, exactly? Troubled, if he'd sensed something about his mother. Worried. But as a Jedi, was he content? Owen hadn't liked him and Beru described him as passionate, Luke thought he remembered. Neither said anything like 'twisted', 'murderous', or 'evil'. Owen told Ben Anakin had blamed him and Owen's father for what happened to Luke's grandmother.

Passionate and angry; blameful. Not quite the qualities of someone at peace in the light side of the Force.

All day long he picked up signs Leia had lived another life while he studied to be a Jedi. She changed into one of Han's shirts, which Luke hadn't known she'd packed for her wardrobe. It almost looked like a shift; long, loose and ill-fitting, but it also looked cool and comfortable. She also knew how to close the circuit and solder wires connecting the battery to the solar connector.

"Where'd you learn that?" he asked her.

 _"Falcon,_ " she answered in a far away voice.

And she actually cooked their first dinner over the combuster unit Luke assembled. It was nerf tips, a cheap and poor, tough cut of meat, and she boiled them in wine.

It wasn't better than Aunt Beru's nerf tip stew, but more tender. Luke remembered Beru had browned the meat first. He and Owen used to have a contest, counting how many chews they needed before being able to swallow.

"I didn't want to use the water," she said smartly to Luke after he complimented her. "Funny how wine is cheaper than water here."

He remembered her telling him they had water issues on their sublight journey to Bespin, and Han, who was usually the cook, must have used wine.

When the suns had set and the desert grew cold, they spread a blanket on the sandy floor.

Leia was sitting with her wrap Luke had cut from a bolt of cloth he found on the _Falcon_ , doing some needle work, it looked like, and reading from a flimsi.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

She sighed. "The wrap is fraying where you cut it. So I'm securing the edges. And I'm reading about all the fingers in all the pies Jabba the Hutt has inserted himself into. Slavery, drugs, extortion, piracy, the black markets- he's an art collector! Currently he has taken four bounties out. I need to get with Chewie and sketch a diagram of the palace. Is it really a palace?" Leia asked.

Luke smiled. "Nothing like where you grew up." He frowned in memory. "I think it used to be a monastery or something. The idea was to shut themselves away from the world. So there's no windows. It is big. I've flown by it in my Skyhopper. You don't go unless you have a reason, and as my uncle used to say, you shouldn't have a reason."

He sighed. Leia was looking at him with sympathy in her eyes, and he sought to change the subject. "You know, I wonder if my stuff is still on the X-Wing. I've got my earnings chip in the duffel. I'd like to go to town one day and get some boots. These are falling apart." He held the sole up for Leia to see how it was starting to separate.

"Maybe from being wet?" Leia suggested.

"Maybe. And some clothes, even. Three years now and I've only had Alliance uniforms to wear. I don't even know what it would look like to dress as Luke Skywalker," he said. Leia smiled. "Has there been any word from Lando yet?" he asked.

"No," she said. "But it doesn't mean anything. I don't expect him for a few days anyway."

"Do you think he's up for this?" Luke asked. "He looked kind of... soft."

Leia grinned from the shadows of the room. "He's soft, all right. He was the Administrator of Cloud City a while, you know."

"How does a bureaucrat like him come to know someone like Han?"

"Oh, don't be fooled," Leia cautioned sardonically. "He's no bureaucrat. He's a con man. He won the city in a card game. Same as Han won the _Falcon._ From him."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm. It was such a good con he was starting to believe it himself."

Luke was still on the _Falcon._ He hadn't known Han owned a Shooting Stars set. The bolt of cloth he'd found to use as wraps had sparked a memory, of the jacket he'd borrowed from Han for the Medal of Bravery ceremony. The cloth was yellow, paler and creamier than the jacket. _Do you like yellow, Han?_ Another thing he hadn't known, the ship was a bet. He couldn't imagine anyone else owning the freighter. And the ship was by no means soft, anywhere.

"You look surprised," Leia observed.

Luke smiled. "I am," he admitted. "I'll have to look at it with the Force. I guess since I've known Han- I fell like he and the ship were born for each other."

Leia smiled again, a little wider. "What would the Force tell you?"

Luke took a big breath and heaved his shoulders upward. "I can see things in it. Not see; sense I guess is more like it. Beings leave traces, where they've been, where they can be headed."

"And you don't see Lando on the _Falcon_?"

"I see," Luke closed his eyes. "Plans. Schemes. I always thought that was Han."

"Han plan?" Leia's tone was fake incredulity.

Now Luke smiled. "I always figured, and this is before I could feel the Force, he was on the down side of his luck. Like he couldn't dig out of the hole he'd put himself in, so the grand schemes had to stop."

"Luke, can you," Leia spoke hesitantly, almost like she was afraid of offending him, "can you sense him?"

"I haven't been able to," he lied. "Not since the message. It must be the carbonite."

But carbonite was made of the same stuff the Force was, living energy. Carbon. Han was in the Force, or was the Force; it was difficult to express it but it was different than Ben was of the Force. Ben belonged there because he was dead. Han's was more a sense of something echoing faintly, an existential awareness of life. The Force had been born when Life first began to exist, and Han was trapped in that moment. Sometimes there was nothing- a blankness, a heart beat, and sometimes there was a struggle of thought and purpose.

Luke wished unconsciousness for Han. He wished he could help him. He wasn't sure if he could. He sent an image of Leia's face to him, as if it was the reason for awareness, or he told Han his name, _Han,_ and he thought _remembe_ _r_.

Leia accepted his answer, but she still looked thoughtful. "Can you sense then, where he's headed? Will we get him out? Will he be okay?"

"You want to know what the future holds. I've asked that same question a few times. First when I saw you in my vision. Then I asked it for myself, before I called to you. Vader had me, and I could let myself be captured or I could fall. I asked the Force if I would die, and the answer was yes, but also no. I gambled on the no. But it can't be clear."

"You won't say." There was reproach in her tone, a resentment toward Luke, but also a bubbling fear that he had looked, and didn't want to give her an answer she didn't want to hear.

"I can't know, Leia. So there's no point in asking."

The silence simmered between Luke and Leia.

Han would have to wait. He'd been running from his destiny, too, like Luke, putting off whatever Jabba the Hutt had in mind for him like Luke had his confrontation with Vader. He would like to talk with Han about their destinies, because they achieved them at the same time, and Luke had always found Han's perspective on things oddly comforting. _At least I'm pretty sure Jabba ain't my father,_ he'd tell Luke when they compared notes, and Luke couldn't help but smile sadly.

Luke was alone, because of cowardice, and Han was alone, because of Luke. And Vader was to blame for all.

Then Leia said, her voice coming from out of the shadows of the darkening room, "Can you know do more than sense?"

"What do you mean?"

"You called to me. You made me hear you."

 _And I made the little Jawa probably lose money on a deal._

"Can you know what I am thinking?" Leia pressed.

Luke opened his mouth to answer. How honest should he be? Because it was possible. "Not you," he said truthfully. "You've got a strong sense of identity. It keeps," he almost said, _keeps me out,_ but shut up in time. "It's like you have a truth about you, so that's all I know of you. But I'm not sure I could read Han either. I never could, and he didn't always tell the truth. I think it's about strength of character."

"Are beings able to enter your thoughts, like you did mine?"

"Try," he said with a grin, to keep the moment light. In a moment it came loud and clear, _Luke Skywalker this is a test._ "Testing, testing, one two three," he answered out loud and she gave him a tentative smile.

"What about Vader?" she asked with a new seriousness.

He looked at her, freezing his thoughts in case he sent them by accident, or in case they were so strong she could sense them like she could his desperate call for help. "Why would you ask that?"

"He's always been searching for you. To have you. Not capture you like the rest of us. And now he's found you, and now knows you have the Force..." she shrugged. "And you escaped. But is there escape in the Force?"

"No," he mumbled.

"What did Vader want?"

Tortured, Luke blinked at her.

She leaned forward. "What did he want, that he should have to do that to Han to get to you?"

"Me," he said, quietly.

"But why you?"

"Because," he began, _Because I'm his son._ "Because he knew my father," he said, and felt like such a hypocrite. He was so angry at Ben for hiding the truth from him, and here he was doing the same from Leia. But he was a coward, and he saw, in a way, Ben had been too.

He couldn't see much of Leia in the dark; the outline of Han's white shirt glowed and that was it. He should tell her now, he thought, while he couldn't see her reaction.

"Does he still try and reach you?" she asked. "Even here, while we're cleaning your home?"

He nodded slowly at her. "Yes."

"What does he want?" Leia lit a lamp, and everything became impossibly bright, just for a moment, and he had to look away. When he returned his gaze back to her, she was looking back, her dark eyes alert and smart, in full view, not hidden by darkness at all.

"Me," he said again. "He wants me to join him."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Join?" she said incredulously. "He cut your hand off!"

The corner of his mouth tucked involuntarily inside his cheek. "I don't think he meant to. I think it was my lack of skill. He was trying to weaken me, so I'd surrender."

She was appraising him. "What do you tell him? When he calls to you. Do you answer?"

"I tell him to go away," he said honestly.

"You keep telling him that," she said, leaning back with satisfaction. "You tell him I'm here. You tell him I will do my best to kill him should the Force lead him here."

No wonder he was a coward, Luke thought of himself. He could ask the Force, _what would Leia do if she knew,_ but he didn't because he thought there was only one answer. There usually wasn't; things like that weren't supposed to be clear, but he had his own answer. _She'll kill me_. He shrugged to himself. Maybe he was wrong. Leia loved him. But she loved Luke Skywalker, Red Five, farm boy. Would she love Luke Skywalker, son of Vader?

She was still thinking about it. "You're not through with this," she told him. "He's going to keep trying. You're going to have to face him."

"Yes."

"Would he be able to sense where you are, or would he still need to bridge the connection, like he did with Han? Will he come here?"

Why hadn't Luke wondered that? "No," he answered, after looking inwardly a moment. "No. He doesn't... he hates it here." It was the first time he realized that, another piece to the puzzle. Shmi, Luke's grandmother, had lived in this very house as a Lars. Was Anakin a son of Tatooine? Had he left as a young child to join the Jedi Temple in Coruscant?

"So you feel safe here."

"Yes."

Leia nodded at him thoughtfully. "What can I do to help?"

His head shot up. "What?"

"What can I do? As far as I can see, we have two jobs ahead of us. One is to get Han, and the other is to defeat Vader. The Force is physical and spiritual, right? You'll need to prepare mind and body."

Luke laughed. "You sound like you'd be a better teacher than Yoda."

"My father told me a bit about the Order," Leia mused, watching a moth flit around the lamp's light. "No outsider went in the Temple, but he knew they meditated and trained with their lightsabers. He went once, after it was attacked, to see if he could help any survivors. You know, I resent them a little," she blurted.

"Resent who? The Order?"

"Your master. What he's taught you. Why you're so different," she said, quietly aggrieved.

"Am I? I don't- feel different," Luke said. He wondered why her tone was so remorseful. And he wondered, if it were true he had changed, had it been because of the teachings of the Force, or the truth from Vader?

"You're quieter. Older. And you're..." Leia quirked her lips. "There's an air about you. Like it's not worth the fight anymore. "

"Oh." That didn't sound very positive. She was sensing his surrender to the Force, to the patient thought that everything would be revealed in time. "You're different, too," he told her, softly. "You cooked dinner."

Leia smiled gently. "I suppose I am." She nodded vaguely, and regarded him for a long moment, and then lowered her face back to her needlework.

Luke breathed deeply, feeling Leia's thoughts of Han. Beru had once felt sorry for Leia, the Princess, raised with no sense of self. It was too bad Beru couldn't see the evolution of the Princess. Leia had learned that to love someone still allowed the love of all but also oneself. And Luke? Did having the Force mean to feel broader, and less of oneself?

Families. Tradition. Leia in Han's shirt, learning to cook and build circuits. She'd achieved her destiny on the _Falcon_ , too. Smiling, Luke said, "Can I ask about Han? I see-" Luke didn't want to make Leia self-conscious, so he chose his words carefully, "I see him. When I look at you in the Force. He's... you've taken him in."

Leia refused to get sentimental. "I have a very small world now, Luke. It's you, and him, and Chewie and the _Falcon._ I didn't want another world, after Alderaan. I resisted." She laughed at herself. "I tried my damnedest not to. But I've come to see I'm a part of your world, and his, whether I wanted it or not. The Wheel taught me that. So, I'm here now. He's too important to me to listen to the Alliance's reasoning of why I have to let him go. They'll say it's war."

"You fight for love," Luke told her softly.

"I loved Alderaan," Leia said frankly. "It's why I'm not going back just yet to them. I will. I'll fight for everyone's world. We cannot have a second operational Death Star. We cannot." Her lips pressed together, and her eyes got distant. Luke knew she was the only one left in the galaxy to bear witness to Alderaan's destruction from the Death Star, and it was a lonesome, heavy burden. "But it's the same, whether it's for a planet like Alderaan, or a small world, where I cook nerf stew and Han braids hair.

"The Alliance fights a war of right and wrong," Leia continued, ignoring Luke's smile. "But there's love and hate that has to be considered. I think that's why we haven't been able to win. Vader, and maybe the Emperor; I don't know about him, but Vader, definitely is full of hate. He hated me on the Death Star. He hated Han."

Luke straightened. "What?"

"And I hate him back."

"Wait," Luke said. "Say that again."

"Vader hates. He's full of anger. I could feel it from him, the way he interrogated me. His resentment, his sense of entitlement. There's nothing else to him. He wants to destroy all."

"That's the dark side."

Leia shrugged. "That's why I wanted to know what he wanted with you. That his hate didn't seem to extend to you. He would kill us all like that," she snapped her fingers, "but not you."

Luke fought a giggle of hysteria. "You're saying he loves me?"

"That you have the Force? It never made sense to me, because he killed other Force-sensitives. So he should hate you. But why single you out?"

"Shit, Leia. You're scaring me." It was her insight that was more frightening to Luke than her discourse. Could his father- _love_ him? Anakin had loved. He'd come back for his mother. Had Luke's father fallen to the dark side of the force and betrayed the Jedi out of love? For his son?

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That night Luke dreamed Anakin Skywalker roamed the desert, yelling and shouting and demanding his son and striking anyone down that failed to give him information with his red lightsaber. Then the Force must have entered his dream, because Beru was back at the stove, cooking with Leia, sharing recipes for nerf stew.

"All he needs is a good meal," Beru told Leia. "The poor soul. He's hungry."

Leia was up earlier than he was, and was already finished with breakfast. She told him she was going to scrub the smoke off the walls in the back bedroom. "Oh, and I left something for you."

Luke saw she was blushing shyly. He looked around the crate they used for a table. "What?"

"That." She pointed with a finger. "It's an audio file. Han and I- I loved your journal. How close you felt to us. How much we occupied your thoughts. It was the same for us about you. I want you to know that. So- I was going to destroy it, since I don't need it anymore, but... Just don't listen in front of me, alright? I can't stand the sound of my voice." She left the room.

Luke turned in his seat after her. "What?" he said with his mouth full. "You have a great voice!" She didn't come back so he picked up the small file. It was like him with his image recorder. He hoped it too would come back with his X-Wing, so he could show Leia the holos.

Master Yoda had found it a silly past time. He was suspicious of Luke and his emotional attachments. He thought they belonged in the dark side of the Force. Why, though? Luke wondered. He always felt better when he thought of Leia and Han and all they had shared. He felt awful about all that had happened; not just to him but Leia and Han. He hated seeing Leia so sad. But it didn't make him want to run off like a loose blaster and try and kill anyone. Not even Vader.

Maybe Vader let his attachments go. Maybe he had nothing.

Luke turned the device on.

Leia's voice in the recording was husky, shy. Maybe she'd been crying or maybe she just felt awkward talking to a file.

 _Luke._

Pause.

 _This was my idea,_ Luke heard a light embarrassed laughter, _but I can't think of a thing of how to start._

Leia took an audible breath.

 _I wanted to leave a record for you, something to let you know what happened to us, if they find the Falcon, and we're all dead._

 _We're damaged, badly damaged, and we're not drifting now, but we will be when you find us. I don't know how it will happen. We might run out of fuel, or air, or food, or we've frozen to death._

 _Han says he's calculated fuel and food, and we should be fine, but._ There was another pause. _I trust him, I do. It's just, so much is wrong with the ship. He and Chewie are working so hard, I know they're exhausted. I know they are worried._

Luke heard Leia make several attempts to continue but apparently was at a loss for words.

 _It's a different death than what I've come to expect for all of us. Ever since I was imprisoned on the Death Star I feel like there's been a blaster at my temple, and I'm tense, waiting for the sound of the trigger starting to move. The last thing I'll ever hear, the sound of murder._

 _But death on the Falcon isn't so bad. It seems peaceful. I'm not frightened. Chewie is here, and Han, and we have each other to see it through. It's a nice death. Intimate even. That's the best kind of death you can ask for, don't you think? Someone to share it with._

There was a long pause and Luke wondered if the recording was done, when Leia started again.

 _I think of how if I get scared I'll just let him wrap my arms around me, and he can kiss my tears away, or smooth the hair off my brow. And I will tell him I wouldn't want to die any other way._

 _I've been- so emotional. I think of death, and Alderaan, and all the people who watched as the laser streaked toward them, and I just- I want them to have been comforted, you know? Have someone to hold, kiss goodbye. To be told how much they meant to someone._

 _ _And I think how stupid I've been-_ Leia's voice quavered with emotion- _to realize it now, to see how much I missed being touched. How I let myself believe I should have nothing.__

 _It's the Empire that did that to me, Luke. They took everything and I let them. And now I see that all along I didn't have to. I even gave them myself. What a fool I've been._

 _I'm not going to anymore. I might not get to enjoy it long, if this ship and this captain-_ there was an affectionate huff of laughter- _wind up being the death of us all._

 _He's trying, Luke. He's really trying, and if he pulls this off, well, I'll be... what shall I be? Is giddy too strong? I'll be happy. For once in a long while, I'll be happy._

 _Don't be sad for us, Luke. We died together, and not really willingly but acceptingly. Look for us all in the Force._

 _I love you_

 _Le-_

 _I got mine! Open up. Princess?_

 _Han?_

Luke heard a door slide open.

 _Yeah, here's mine to send to Junior._ Luke smiled. From the sound of Han's voice it didn't seem as if he shared Leia's dire view of their future.

There was a pause. Then Leia said, in a sharper tone, _This is it? It's less than thirty seconds!_ _Look at mine- it's several minutes._

 _I can't help if you're a chatterbox, Sweetheart._

 _What did you say?_

 _Play it if you want._

Luke heard, sounding a little more tinny and distant than Han's other voice, _Hey Luke,_ _I should've left you a spare pair of boots. Swamp water's hell on 'em._ _Here's my tip: dry them by a fire if you got one._ _Well, that's all I have to say. Be a good Jedi._ _Have a nice life._

Leia was back, her voice biting and sharp. Luke smiled. _Can't you take anything seriously?_

 _Sure, what don't-_

 _-and what's this about swamp water?_

 _-Just the kid's-_

 _-Writing advice columns, are we now, Captain Solo?_

Luke laughed along with Han's voice. _Lemme hear what you said._

 _No!_ Her voice came firm and definite, her sad mood completely vanished. She was back in the present, pulled from thoughts of death and the future. _Luke, goodbye. If he's dead and I'm not you'll know why._

 _Hey-_

 _Goodbye, Luke_

The recording ended.


	30. Tatooine

_Did you have a nice intermission? :) I didn't mean it to last so long.  
_ _I hope you are still reading and hanging in there with me as we begin our last arc for ROTJ. Drop a comment, even if it's to say hello. I love hearing from you. Thank you!_

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Luke woke up in the corner of the house that used to serve as his sleeproom. Uncle Owen no longer peeked his head through the Cut Lace curtain before First Rise and growled, "Wake up, Luke," but it was as if Luke's body responded to his old surroundings on its own, the familiarity launching him back into the old routine. He turned his head to view Leia, still asleep on her pallet across the floor, curled tightly in a ball, as if holding everything in, afraid even in sleep it would all tumble out.

Luke realized he was on his back, his legs extended straight, very tidily arranged. He held up his prosthetic hand to view it in the dim light- darkness never fell completely on Tatooine- and gently flexed the fingers. He wondered, not for the first time, what had become of his real hand, the one that went sailing away holding his lightsaber, severed from the rest of him. He could picture it, fingers curled in a death pose around the hilt of his sword. It was alone, lost. _Poor hand,_ he thought. That was the only thing, after all this, that he felt sorry for.

Not himself, which was something new. And truly, he'd earned it now. He used to feel sorry for himself quite a bit.

 _There goes Luke, little orphan boy._

 _No, Biggs, Uncle's got my number. I can't go until I finish cleaning the treads on the droids. My life sucks._

 _Darth Vader is arguably the most hated being in the galaxy, and I have to call him Father._

But he didn't have to, so he didn't wallow in self-pity. He still hadn't told Leia, but he was going to, he was. When the time was right. They had other, more important things to worry about. Vader had been his father all his life; a few more days wouldn't hurt.

She would want him to kill Vader, as Yoda and Ben did, and that's why he didn't tell her. The genetic relationship wouldn't disturb her, not after a while. She was a child of adoption, after all, and viewed Bail and Breha as her true parents. But she would sense, and rightly, like prey catching the scent of blood, that Vader was now weak, and Luke needed to use that weakness for the Alliance and end the war.

Luke sensed it too, but it caused a different reaction in him. Instead of moving in for the kill, he felt an odd protectiveness rise in him for Vader. The hand was an accident. Vader had never done anything to Luke other than to want him.

Which, yes, Luke would grant that the slaughter of Jedis was a far from well-meaning expression of loss, but he'd done it for Luke. And his mother. He had to admit, it felt nice to be wanted.

Luke tried to quench the warmth that flared in his gut, but he was a son of the desert. _At least I know it's wrong._ Still, to provoke that kind of reaction... His face flushed with discomfort. _It was wrong. I understand it. That doesn't mean I'll do it. I'm not him._

He returned his gaze to his uplifted arm. He had adjusted to the new hand. It was a matter of finding something bright about the darkness. It could move the sand with the Force when he asked it to, and that's all he wanted- the ability to harness that Force energy with it like his natural body. He thought it might be a bit stronger, too, but maybe it was just him, older, more mature. In any case he used to have trouble loosening that one bolt at the bottom of the condenser, the one that was at an impossible angle. Owen never had trouble with it, while for Luke it was always a struggle, and in the early mornings before he had his breakfast he'd get frustrated easily and just hold the spanner out for Owen to do it.

Owen used to have to wake him, Luke remembered, several times. Luke might crawl onto his stomach or bury his head under the pillow, anything to delay the day's prospects, anything to pretend he wasn't Luke, a farm boy. Sometimes it wearied Owen to play this game; sometimes he was impatient and wouldn't stand for it, but at other times, like when the harvest was good, it amused him.

 _I'm a grown up, now,_ he told the desert with a sad smile. He'd made it off planet, what he'd always wanted to do, and he came back, something he never thought would happen.

And he was farming again. Mr. Darklighter loaned him the use of a condenser unit and in the first week Luke had harvested six millimeters of water.

Leia had helped him set it up, and he explained the process to her. "This valve is on a timer to open in the morning. It takes about four hours for the tank to fill with air," Luke said. "The air surrounds the cooling core, which is controlled by the thermostat here. When the water condensates, it flows through this pipe," he traced his finger along the path," into this basin here."

"You realize you don't grow water," Leia said. "I don't know why you call it that. Remove it from the air, perhaps, but you don't grow it."

Luke shrugged. He was a Tatooinian. It had always been called that. "We're farmers." He checked the thermostat to make sure it was cooling. "The sand blows all the time, and it clogs the valve or jams the thermostat. If it gets in the basin the harvest is ruined, so you have to do rounds all the time and make sure it's clear of sand."

She peered into the basin. "There's not much there."

"That's one day," Luke said, offended on behalf of all moisture farmers.

"What about when it storms?"

She was catching on, quickly. She objected to the idea of growing water, but she accepted that a storm could involve sand and not rain. He had shown her one through the macrobinoculars three days ago, in the distance. A sharp delineation of color in the horizon: a swath of gray, moving and rolling.

"No growing during storms. You have to watch the radar, and if one's headed your way cover all the condensers. Keep the valve closed, turn off the thermostat. The basin's got to be empty or the water gets too warm without the thermostat and it spoils."

"What will you do with this harvest?" Leia asked, peering again but with a new appreciation into the basin. "Will we drink it?"

He shrugged again. "Probably give it to Mr. Darlkighter to sell. It's his unit. It's not like we'll be staying."

"No."

Leia took to Tatooine, which surprised Luke. Maybe it shouldn't have. Tatooine was a planet, Luke's, and Leia loved Luke so therefore she loved his planet.

Leia was always so much bigger than Luke. He felt sorry for a hand but she collected planets, caring for them and treasuring them. She could view them as they occupied their places in the galaxy, as if she were a sun, and tended to them like precious playing pieces of a Shooting Stars set.

He tried to understand where the Leia of Tatooine came from. Like a cutting from the plant his Aunt Beru had nurtured. A piece of the same, planted in its own soil until it took off on its own, and it was just as large and beautiful as the original, only freer.

It wasn't all Han, though it was, if you took it back to the beginning. Han was the reason she was on Tatooine, and without him she wouldn't be here, but she wouldn't be _here_ either, this Leia who wore her hair very high off her neck, like Beru had, because that's what common sense told you; this Leia who chatted affably with Mrs. Darklighter about open air cooking and learned the names of the other farming families.

The Darklighters thought Leia was Luke's wife. "But where did Luke find you, dear?" Mrs. Darklighter asked when she discovered Leia had no idea what a foil oven was.

"Oh," Leia caught Luke's eyes and he knew he was being told never to tell, "I was far from home. I've got a lot to learn here, don't I?" she managed to deflect further conversation about her origin.

He forgave the Darklighters for not recognizing Princess Leia, because when he'd been here he had no idea such a person existed. Luke decided, if he were asked, he'd say, _I found her in a holo._ Because then it wouldn't be a lie. They would assume he'd bought himself a holobride. Holobrides were not unheard of on Tatooine, particularly among the moisture farmers. The communities were so sparsely populated that often a young human may resort to an arranged marriage to start his own homestead.

Careful not to wake Leia, Luke folded back the sheet and stood from the pallet. It was still cool inside; the blowers would stay off for another hour or so.

Built by Owen's father, the Lars homestead did not have many rooms, but it was spacious. The floor plan was open and free, partly underground, designed for safety against Tuskan raids but apparently deadly in a fire, with interior walls that never touched or reached the ceiling, taking advantage of the blowers that circulated air for cooling. It could be one room or several, depending on the needs of the family at the time of residence. After Clegg Lars died and Owen married Beru, they had put up a rod between two walls and hung Cut Lace fabric across it as a privacy screen, and when they became the guardians of Luke Skywalker they had put up a second.

Cut Lace was a traditional art form of the planet's humans. Elaborate scenes were created by cutting holes into fabric. When a sun's light hit the fabric, the rays streamed through the holes while the shadow of the solid fabric cast revealed a scene. The one in Luke's room was Grazing Bantha.

Because he could now, anytime he wanted, anyone he wanted, Luke summoned Force Vader and they walked through the Lars homestead together. They drifted through the history of the house, from when Luke was a boy and before to now, furnished with crates and pallets as he and Leia slowly set up a home.

"I always liked bantha," Luke commented.

"They serve," Force Vader answered.

Luke didn't answer right away, wondering if he was being told something. A domesticated bantha was a life mount of a Tuskan Raider, and the two were said to share a tremendous bond, to the point of death. The comment made him think of Leia, the duty-bound Princess, but he thought of himself too, armed with the Force. "I suppose they do," he said quietly.

The shadow of the lace was on the floor, the late afternoon of the big red sun making the lace seem large, distorted. Grazing Bantha was a simple, yet popular pattern, mostly solid; the lace traced the rounded backs of the numerous beasts and outlined the canyons in the background. The shadows were black; the sunlight a deep gold, and the fabric could be any color. Luke's was white.

It was interesting, returning home as a visitor. There were colors, and memories: Leia in white, the golden sand, which was a lie, and the yellow and red of the two suns.

"Anakin was given a room here," Luke observed, and Force Vader nodded in memory.

Han had been here too, but Luke focused first on his father, young and brooding. He had arrived in a rented speeder, but he knew Tatooine. His eyes and skin were protected from the sun and he brought water for him and his companion to drink- a woman, Luke noted with interest- but not in the traditional sense of host gift.

Anakin had not buried his mother in the courtyard like the Darklighters and Han had done Owen and Beru, but out in the fields, where the Tuskan Raiders had snatched her.

"He was jealous," Luke realized. "Of the new life Shmi made."

"For a long while, they only had each other," Force Vader intoned solemnly.

"And then he left," Luke finished, "and she found something else. Didn't he get at the Jedi Temple what she had here?"

"He was not fully able to leave her."

"And he was angry with the Lars for making her happy." Luke felt Anakin more than saw him. The desert remembered him lash out; his anguish, his fury, _no one could love her like I did_ , "And he held them responsible for her death. Tatooine is where his fall started."

"He allowed himself the dark side then, and fought it a long time, until he surrendered."

"He didn't surrender," Luke argued. He knew this since Cloud City, when Vader had maimed him. "He jumped. He thought the Force was power. He wanted it."

Vader was wrong. The Force was not power. Nor was it an energy field, as Ben had explained it. Not Luke's ally, as Yoda defined it. It was stories. That's what the Force was. It was emotions, and experiences, expressed as small gestures that connected all living things. It was life itself.

Luke felt without question that he was right, and he wondered why, when the Jedi Order had existed for thousands of years, and now it was gone, and he was just a farm boy. Had they forgotten? Had they ceased to listen?

Everything seemed jumbled, shaken, but at the same time it all was clear. Luke knew it all. Nothing was straight in the Force. Vader made Luke who made Vader who made Luke, tumbling on and on.

The woman might be his mother, Luke hoped, because there was no other reason for her to be with Anakin that he could think of, and he took a closer look. She was not dressed like Anakin, like a Jedi, and Luke thought- he wasn't sure how he knew. Maybe it was the lack of attention she was given by the Force- she was probably not Force-sensitive. She wore a lovely set of robes that covered her skin in a shade of blue that was like the seas of Calvunca. It would cost a fortune to make a Cut Lace from that, Luke knew it. She was young, with a thoughtful beauty, and she attempted to temper Anakin's arrogance with her own grace. Again, Luke's thoughts roamed to Leia.

Somehow, this story, the one where Luke found himself on Tatooine, was hers.

Stories converged, mixing into one another until they couldn't be separated, all building to one giant truth. The one of a princess in a holomessage that ended with a smuggler in carbonite couldn't be told without knowing the tale of Anakin Skywalker, without including the one about his son, and all that Luke too had collected, of Tatooine, and Ben, of his aunt and uncle.

He moved Force Vader through the house, out into the courtyard, past years of living. "You said to keep my friends close. Is this what you meant?"

Force Vader nodded. "You have brought them here, under the two suns," he explained in his cryptic way.

"But I lost Han."

"Alderaan was full of life, and the sacrifice is not unacknowledged. It is an injustice that can be righted. The smuggler is neither."

Leia again. "But why," Luke protested. "Why is he neither?" His hand slapped his forehead, and then moved through his hair as he realized something. "That's why Leia," he said. "The Force is life and she has always fought for it, for life - for beings just- to live, and to love each other." Luke recalled her broken voice on her audiofile and the wish she had for Alderaan's dying moments, "and she's lost a lot.

"I think," Luke said slowly. "I think, you'd better go. The Force is- it's broken."

"Not broken. Yet two remain in the dark where no light shines," Force Vader acknowledged Luke with a bow, and vanished.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chewie could go off on his own after Han, Luke saw in the Force. He knew everything now, all the stories, all the maybes. Chewie wouldn't succeed if he did; wouldn't even make it far inside the palace, and after a time Jabba would tire of caring for the carbonite slab and toss it in the Great Pit of Carkoon.

Or Leia and Chewie went, and Jabba would release Han just long enough to let them watch him be devoured by the rancor, and then Chewie and Leia would become slaves.

Lando had numerous possibilities. In one he didn't return, in another he offered to buy the carbonite slab, in a third he stole into the palace to free Han on his own.

In all the big red sun blazed over the wide expanse of the Dune Sea, and Han always all died.

Luke wouldn't accept this, and he found himself turning on the Force a bit, letting darkness seep in. It would be alright, he assured himself. Darkness was there at the fight, and they were going to have to fight the Hutt for Han. And too, he argued with himself, perhaps the best way to fight evil was with evil. Because it understood.

Besides, if his assessment of the Force was correct and- he had said broken but was contradicted. So if not broken, then tilted, leaning, crooked- whatever the proper description was, it meant the Force had no interest in Han and wouldn't bother to tell his story.

But Leia would.

Han was a bit of a story teller himself, Luke thought, or maybe he was just really clever. For a man who mostly denounced the Force he had put things well in place.

Leia hadn't said much of what happened on Cloud City, only that it had happened quickly. A door opened, Vader was there, and it all fell apart. Han must have been thinking furiously, Luke thought. It was not the usual image Luke got of Han, and he felt regret and affection for him, and more than anything he wanted to shatter that block of carbonite to pieces.

Han couldn't have known how Chewie or Leia would get off Cloud City, but he must have figured the odds were they would. Maybe when he heard Luke was coming, or maybe he'd had some faith still in Lando, a punch in the jaw serving as reminder. But he had calculated they would get away, even if he didn't, and he had set it up that both Chewie and Leia would live. If Han didn't, well that was the odds; but if somehow he did, he knew Chewie had to come after him.

Han would call it a gamble, Luke knew. He'd tell Luke he had a valuable card and he wanted to play it when it would make the most difference. How many times in his unpredictable life had he fingered that card, Luke wondered, thinking _now?_ Waiting for the deck to change, _now?_ Han had cashed in his life debt for the first time, asking Chewie to watch over the Princess.

It saved Chewie's life. Leia's too, probably. And it was one less thing Luke had to worry about.

In all the maybes, though she needed Luke and Chewie, though they all always died, she was always the one to release Han. Several elements repeated themselves: the Great Pit and the Sarlacc that lived within, Jabba's rancor, the Dune Sea, and Leia. Leia shut off the thermal regulation system that kept the carbonite frozen. Dressed in white, or as a slave girl, or in some outlandish outfit Luke couldn't identify.

Was it possible?

Leia sensed a life the Force didn't care about. She wore that life's shirt.

Would Leia be the one to repair the Force? Could she... Luke hardly dare articulate the thought- would her actions affect Vader somehow? Was Leia-

She had heard Luke call in the Force. She collected stories, especially about planets. She was incredibly empathetic, incredibly strong.

Was Leia Force-sensitive?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leia's shadow, the one cast by the larger sun, rippled over the sand courtyard and up the high wall before Luke. A negative of Leia, so sharp he could see the frayed ends of Leia's hair at the end of her braid, and he could tell by the rounding of her cheeks that she was smiling.

She stood behind where he sat on the floor, and commented of the little piles of sand he separated with the Force, "Are you planning on throwing sand in Jabba's eyes?"

She didn't say anything about the colors. He grinned down on the piles, and said, "I'll keep it as an option."

She was like what happened when you put a lid on her pot of boiling nerf stew. Roiling turbulence below, sealed off; a deceptive calm on top.

Leia tried to stir the pot, but Luke could not let her. Not yet.

"Do you think the landspeeder will be able to carry the weight of a carbonite slab?" she might ask as she drifted through the rooms of the Lars homestead, wondering out loud to him, talking to herself, thinking about Han.

Little wisps of steam escaping, rattling the lid. She never waited to hear Luke's answer. It was always rhetorical. She didn't need Luke to get Han. She always moved away, not even aware the question had seeped out of her, so many worries and thoughts and ideas they just bubbled out of her.

Sometimes it was to plan. "Is there a place to park the landspeeder close by but out of view?"

Other times it was the man himself. "He's going to need a medic."

He and Leia drove out to the _Falcon_ each day to check on Chewie, waving to Mr. Darklighter working in the condenser fields as they passed. Luke saw his old neighbor stoop to almost standing, raising a puzzled arm in greeting. Luke should be helping, he thought a little guiltily. There was little leisure time in the life of a moisture farmer, and the Darklighter farm was large. He had over a thousand condensers. But right now Luke saw his job was to keep both Leia and Chewie alive.

"The Darklighters think we're married," he told her as he faced forward in the seat again.

She grinned, her eyes straight over the desert. "I noticed. You can't blame them, Luke. You reappear to your childhood home with a young woman in tow. You'd rather they think I'm your slave?"

"Did you correct them?" he asked her. "I didn't say anything."

She dismissed it with a shrug as unimportant. "No, I didn't bother. They'd just start asking questions."

Luke agreed with a nod. She was a little jerky on the acceleration, but she'd asked to drive and since she had purchased the speeder he'd of course not denied her. She never got to, she told him. "Not with you two moon jockeys around."

That was true, Luke conceded. He and Han often quibbled over the pilot's seat, except in the _Falcon,_ while Leia waited in patient amusement for them to get moving.

On Alderaan, she said, her family had always sat in the backseat, and an employee- "we had seven pilots in our employ. Two planetary and the rest intergalactic."- did all the piloting, always.

The comment about a slave prompted Leia to mention one of her ideas. "I could go in as a slave girl," she suggested.

Luke looked at her. At least this time it wasn't rhetorical. There was no question in her voice, no hesitation. She was actually considering this. And he had seen it as a possibility. "No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."

"How else will a human female get before Jabba?" she demanded to know. "Apparently he has a weakness for them."

"And then what?" Luke prompted her to think. "How are you going to leave when you're chained to Jabba? How are you going to get Han out of there? Invite Jabba to go with you?"

It was sarcastic but it got through to her. "No, he doesn't leave the palace much, does he?"

"He goes out to the Great Pit of Carkoon and drops slaves in it," Luke retorted.

"The great what?"

To keep her alive, because she needed both him and Chewie to get Han, he had her collect stories, from all over the planet. Of his childhood, of the Sand People, of the Hutt. He had her study the map, learn the terrain, the names of the landmarks. He had no plan yet, but he assured her he did and it wasn't a lie, because the Force would guide him.

"There's the Great Pit of Carkoon," he pointed out to her on the map, since it featured in many of the Force's stories. "Jabba likes to hold executions out there. He has so many slaves come through and treats them so bad that once a year he holds Cleansing Day, and drops in the weak ones."

Leia leaned closer to the map, as if it could reveal what was inside the Pit. "What's down there?"

"A Sarlacc. It eats mainly Krayt Dragons it catches under the sand, but it seems happy with Jabba's offerings."

"How- Is Tatooine completely lawless?" she asked in abject horror. "How is that permitted?"

"Not completely," Luke said. "Jabba pays off the authorities, I guess. And I told you, no one goes out there. The guards that attend it talk in the cantinas, and that's how the rest of us know."

"Chewie's ready to give up on Lando," Leia said. "He doesn't think he'll come back."

"He will," Luke assured.

"You know this?"

"Yes," he half lied. "And I know this: You get Han. It's you. So trust me. We need to wait."

She wasn't happy about waiting, but hearing her future success for Han's rescue mollified her. "Mrs. darklighter asked about Han," Leia murmured beside him.

It snapped Luke from a reverie. "What'd she ask?"

"If he was a friend of yours. I got the impression they didn't think he was your type." There was a wry smile poised on Leia's lips.

Luke grunted, remembering a Han of three years ago he'd been willing to let go. "Did he ask directions to Jabba's? That wouldn't go over too well." Leia laughed. "What did you tell her?"

"She said he was terribly sunburned and couldn't wait to get away," Leia wasn't finished talking about Han, "but that he was polite and worked very hard once they brought him to your farm."

"Polite?" Luke said.

"I told her you hadn't seen him in a while."

"Well, that's true. I don't like lying to them."

"She also said he offered to get rid of the two sentries posted at your house."

"There were sentries?" Luke asked.

Leia nodded. "If you returned."

"Did he?"

She nodded again. "That's how they were finally able to get out to your farm finally. They hadn't been. They only saw smoke. They hadn't known what happened."

"Shit."

"I know."

Luke felt terrible. To spend days waiting, seeing smoke, smelling it, not knowing. Then to find what was waiting there... In a way it was probably helpful to have an outsider find it with them.

"So what did he do? Kill them?"

"Mr. Darklighter said he could have killed them, or paid them off to go away. He never saw bodies. But he could have buried them."

"Huh," Luke grunted thoughtfully. "He had reward money."

"And a blaster."

"What's your bet?"

Leia smiled. "Flip a coin."

"Or," Luke laughed. "I know. He paid them off, then he killed them and took his money back."

xXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

"Out in the blackness of the Beyond Sky, the little sun grew ashamed of her size and color," Leia read aloud to Luke from 'The Sand Being: the Mythology of Tatooine', a reference work she had found on the holoweb. "She was pale and weak, unable to provide enough nourishment to sustain the seed she was tasked with sheltering."

She looked up at Luke. "Seed?" she said dubiously. "And the sun is female?"

Luke, sitting cross legged on the ground in front of the grave of Beru and Owen, shrugged. "That one is. Read on."

Leia helped him appreciate how unique Tatooine was. The red of the big sun, blazing and hot, Leia in white, the yellow of the sand, which was deceptive. It only looked yellow. The sand, as evidenced now in two little piles resting in Luke's shadow, was actually two colors: white silicon granules of the planet's mantle and grains of black canyon erosion.

It still looked yellow, though, from space even, so even though it was a lie it was still a truth.

And that's why there were stories, Luke thought, like this one about a lonely sun. He liked that the Tuskans thought of their planet as a seed, something that could grow. There was a truth in that, too.

Leia kept reading. "She found herself withdrawing and shunned, until she was in a remote corner of the Beyond Sky. 'Beyond Sky'," Leia repeated slowly. She scrolled through, looking for an author. "'As told by Tuskan Female Research Subject Two'. They have an interesting way to describe things."

Luke waved his prosthetic hand but the sand did not move. "Cosmography, right?"

"Lonely, and feeling helpless as she watched her task grow cold, one day the little yellow sun captured a traveling star and blew on it with her breath. The little star took fire, and the small yellow sun held it close, feeding it her hopes and loneliness until it grew bigger and hotter, and she had it join her in the sky."

"Hopes and loneliness," Luke quoted back, thinking of himself as a youth here. And of Darth Vader. His father was certainly the large red sun, but Luke was the progeny, not the creator, so that meant Vader was the yellow sun and Luke the red? He remembered thoughts of Ancestor Luke, more god than human, his body spanning earth and sky.

"What?" Leia asked, feeling Luke's gaze intent upon her. Ancestor Luke was alone, he remembered, except for a light, small and constant. Leia. She _was_ Force-sensitive. But no one knew. Or at least told him. Which wouldn't surprise him. Crooked Force.

And she had no idea. He shook his head at her, full of rueful amazement. Her story could have been his. And his, hers.

"Red Sun is young and energetic. He burns- oh, he's a he, is he?" Leia said, before continuing, "he burns with the knowledge that it is his presence and his presence alone that saved both the small sun and their task. Red Sun does what he wants. Yellow sun grants her child the task of sheltering the seed. She is strong with one need, Love, and she indulges her child. In time, Red Sun will be taught how to properly give shelter, but as the sky is endless, so is all the time he has to learn."

Leia finished reading and frowned. "I find it interesting the Tuskans allow for such an imperfect world. That the yellow sun should love so strongly, to the detriment of the planet."

"Makes sense to me as they explain it," Luke answered. "The red one is the reason for the sand storms. Like a spoiled child. Does it say anything about moisture farmers? Science says the sand reflects the yellow sun, the one farther away, but we say it's because it's the more influential one."

"Here's a science article." Leia fell silent, reading with concentration, her dark eyes skimming text. "It says," she looked up, making sure she had Luke's attention. "It says, the red sun is actually the elder, and its gravitational force is slowly pulling Tatooine toward it, until one day the planet will be consumed by its own sun. I would say, then," Luke enjoyed her arch of her brow, "moisture farmers are wrong." She paused as she registered the weight of the words. "The planet's doomed."

Luke nodded, having learned the science in school. "It's not for thousands of years."

"But it'll just get hotter and stormier."

"Yeah, probably. Moisture farmers will go. The Sand People will stay with their planet, though. They won't know to leave."

"You think even if they are told, 'destruction is imminent, come with us'?"

Luke thought for a moment. The native word was Tuskan but the farmers added Raider because of their highly ritualistic, violent behavior. "I don't think they'll believe it. It's the sun's task."

"At some point the planet will become uninhabitable," Leia said. "Still long before it's consumed. It's almost uninhabitable now. There's time to act."

"Act?" Luke looked up.

"Yes. Maybe the planet can't be saved, but what about the bantha? And the krayt dragons? And that thing you told me about? In the pit?"

"Oh, the Sarlacc."

"Yes. They can be collected-"

 _Like stories,_ Luke thought.

"-and brought to live elsewhere in a similar environment."

"I don't think the Sarlacc can. It's, like, rooted to the desert. And I don't know, Leia. Another desert planet may not have Tuskans to tell its story, but it might be a desert planet because it's too close to its sun. Same story."

"I don't like to think of a planet dying."

"I know you don't," Luke said gently.

Leia had lost a planet. To someone unable to comprehend it, it was not a huge thing. There were still flowers, but elsewhere. There was still birdsong, though different. And many planets offered air to sustain life. But she would never see _those_ flowers or listen to _those_ birds or feel _that_ air on her face. She thought she had lost everything, though not a reason to live, and that's why she donned a uniform. Life had become something to endure.

But there was a part to being home, of having a home, that didn't involve air or birds or flowers. She first saw it on Vrakith IV, and it was reinforced on the long flight to Bespin.

It was the experience of living, the small gestures. Of laughing, crying. Singing, touching. Loving. That's why Leia wore Han's shirt.


	31. Han

_If you could see Leia now, Han,_ Luke thought ruefully. He was sitting atop the domed roof of the homestead for no particular reason. Because it was someplace to sit, to be above, apart.

He'd heard that somewhere before…

Yes, he remembered. Rieekan's explanation of the Jedi. To protect and serve, yet remain above and apart. Luke scanned the horizon, spread out for miles. Condensers dotted the landscape, like a sculpture garden. He could tell the direction of the wind by the ripples marked in the sand.

 _I am a Jedi, then._

The Force had that effect on a user. He needed to step away from everything. It was too much sometimes. Awareness was huge, loud.

He sat, higher than the moisture farms, away from Leia setting up the foil oven in the courtyard. His Force sense traveled the miles, speeding across the desert like a blaster bolt, passing life.

 _Or ha, if you could see_ _Me_ _now. You wouldn't recognize me._ Luke imagined himself before Han, freed from the carbonite, holding out his hand for Han to shake. _Hi, I'm Luke Skywalker. Son of evil, one-handed Jedi Knight._

And Han would sort of play along. _Nice to meet you, kid._

Atop the dome, Luke smiled. Kid.

He could take his senses, hone them in on Jabba's palace, find Han's presence locked away. It's how he was still able to make Chewie and Leia wait for the attack. He couldn't see Han, but just the fact that he couldn't really sense him either; no mood, no thought, reduced to scraps of instincts. It told him Han was still in the carbonite. Not really safe, but safe enough. Not really alive, and not alive enough, certainly; but nor was he dead.

He couldn't keep Han company, because there was no Han, but Han kept him company. They were both apart, away. Luke was soothed by a friendship frozen. All that had happened, all that had changed, and when Luke saw him next, Han would still be Han.

 _Maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe it's for the best. I'm sorry to say that. But for Leia. For me. I know it's hard on you, but we need time. And then we'll need you._

And for some reason, he thought he could tell Han things that he still hadn't been able to tell Leia. Leia always made things so complicated. She could present her case to Luke, how she agreed with Ben and Yoda, that it was his obligation to the galaxy to kill Vader. She would study genetics, trying to ascertain how she could forgive Luke for being Vader's son. Or she might refuse to discuss it.

 _She's more beautiful than ever,_ he told Han. _She looks real. More than she did. And she never walks. She flits, or floats, and always something is with her, a loss but it's not gone, you know? Is that possible? To possess loss?_

Luke would remind Han that time Chewie showed Luke holos of a Kasshyykan bird. It had seized Luke's imagination. He loved the huge wingspan, the long legs, the supple, sinewy neck. The way the bird moved as if time did not matter; slowly, gracefully. Wings stretched in elegance, eyes piercing one's soul.

The bird was endangered, Chewie explained. Over-hunted by the damned Imperials that shot at them after they had corralled Wookiees into their shock collars. For a while they were so plentiful one needn't aim a blaster- "no wonder the Imps went for them," Han joked humorlessly- they were so plentiful, just point and shoot. They were not only easy to catch, but their feathers were highly desired for the absorbed UV light that changed the color from milky gray to glowing purples and greens.

 _That's Leia. She's that bird. She's so special, like we're so lucky to have her for the time we do. The way she talks; she's in the present but she's somewhere else, too. The way she moves, slow and careful, like she's holding something precious. But those eyes, they're like a moon, hanging full and low in a sky._

It would kill Han to see Leia now, Luke thought, like this. Full of love and sorrow and anger. He would think it a bad thing, that he was the one to make Leia Organa feel. He'd be wrong. But then feelings weren't really Han Solo's strong suit.

 _We're going to get you out of there, if anything due to her determination. You know how she is. But now she's for you._

Leia had been researching the tibanna gas mining process at Cloud City, and was frustrated by the lack of information. That was really the main reason she was waiting for Lando's return; if she had the information she needed about what Han would face once he was free she would storm Jabba's palace right now.

She wanted to know about industrial accidents at Cloud City. If a being ever came into dermal contact with liquid carbonite before the freeze; if it was possible to ingest it through eyes, mouth, cuts, even pores. If the previous tibanna gas shipment left residue in the freezing chamber and was poisonous.

She kept her comm constantly at her side, and watched its charge carefully. Once she went in to Mos Espa to collect a package.

"What's in it?" Luke had asked.

"Supplies," she told him. "Just things I expect we'll need: saline solution, IV drips, stim shots, general antibiotics. I want to reserve a VMD but I don't know the time frame yet."

"Good idea," Luke said, subdued that he hadn't thought about any of this. "You can get a VMD here pretty easily."

Visiting Medical Droids were a necessary business on Tatooine. Heat stroke, sand storms, and injuries from Raider attacks were all to common.

"I'm afraid Jabba's is going to be a disease pit," Leia said worriedly.

Despite the serious nature of what they faced, Luke had to smile. "Get enough antibiotics for all of us then."

 _We're not ready yet, though, so hang in there. I know I'm killing them, making them wait. But we're too fresh, too raw._

Twice now, he'd stood over her sleeping pallet and stared down at her face, watching a tear. Once rolling down her cheek, quick, in a hurry, spending the emotion before she caught it. The second time it nestled along the bridge of her nose and it stayed there, offering solace.

Luke wasn't sure what to do. Should he wake her? Hug her, ask her to tell him what she'd been dreaming? Sometimes when she woke, she was wild-eyed and not sure where she was. "Oh, Luke," she would say, and nothing more. She complained of the heat and sand drying her eyes, making them feel bleary. She speculated she might be coming down with something.

No, he would tell her, remaining noncommittal, you seem fine; but he didn't tell her she cried.

 _And Chewie. You think he has to come, but it's more than that._

Chewie took to hunting krayt dragons, the dangerous sand swimmers. He made himself an enemy of the Tuskan Raiders when he bagged one from under the gaffi stick of a Tuskan youth undergoing his coming of age trials. The Sand People became enraged, and drove Chewie from their hunting ground, firing rocks at him from their pellet rifles.

Luke and Leia drove out each day to see him, bringing food and little news and no plan. The heat made the oils in the Wookiee's fur secrete to excess, and he looked greasier, flatter. Unwell.

 _It's been rough on him. Leia's been a help there, too. She reminds him he's got to watch over her, so he can't leave. But he wants to._

Chewie was drinking. He was going through the stores, stuff Han had bought, traded, even stolen. Like he was whittling away at the connection he had with his partner, until all he had left was his honor, and then it wouldn't mean anything.

Wine, ale. Sometimes they joked about how much alcohol was on the ship. _Did she run on alcohol?_ Leia asked with an affectionate smile and Luke answered, _she wouldn't pass a sobriety test, we know that._

"Luke? Are you ready?"

Luke looked down from his perch. Leia stood with her two shadows branching out from her feet, one hand on her hip, goggles over her hair and squinting. "It's getting late," she told him.

Luke nodded, and stood, collecting the Force in an inhale and made the long leap. Leia's answering glance was longer than it should be. She looked of wonder and distaste and apprehension. Then she turned and hopped into the speeder.

"Were you meditating?" she asked as they pulled away.

"No," he said, but offered no explanation for why she found him perched atop the roof when no ladder had helped him get up there. He slouched down in his seat, placing his foot on the dash. He picked at the broken sole of his boot, which adhesive borrowed from the _Falcon_ failed to repair.

"You don't do that as much," she said. "And you don't want to go to General Kenobi's. What's wrong?"

"I'm just," Luke pulled his own goggles out of his utility belt. "I need to maintain a little distance."

There was a new Force spirit at the Lars homestead. Luke didn't really recognize the darkened, tidy hair, the cape that fluttered mid-calf length, the single glove covering one hand, but he recognized him just the same. He named him Darth Luke.

Darth Luke stalked him just as Vader's spirit had around Echo Base. That first time Luke had been terrified, unable to distinguish Force from reality, and then in subsequent sightings he had the feeling Vader's posture was lonely, dejected. Looking for himself, Luke saw now. Wanting Luke to accept him.

This Darth Luke... Luke knew what he wanted. Luke was not going to embrace it. He knew what would happen if he did, so he stayed away, keeping the Force at arm's length, though that was difficult. Darth Luke had not yet offered any words of wisdom but he kept his eyes trained on Leia, watching her read, staying beside her while she worked the field with Luke, until Luke pushed him away with the Force, _go away. You won't touch Leia_.

And so Luke tethered himself to Leia, to shield himself and to protect her. He stayed with her joined at the hip because if he didn't he would leave. Oh, how Ben and Yoda hadn't expected this, he thought with a malicious glee. For he wasn't going to kill his father; their careful lying treatment they used on Luke had backfired on them and he was glad.

He would leave, and go to Dagobah, and he didn't have any questions any more, not about his father, or his mother, or Han or even Leia, because he was Luke, and he knew everything. But he would find that little green being and he wouldn't even use the Force. He would jump on him, pummel him, choke him with his bare hands, one real and one prosthetic and growl _why, why why_ even though he didn't want an answer.

Yoda would use the Force against him, but Yoda had selected Luke, son of evil, to kill Darth Vader because he thought Luke was the only one who could, and now Luke was more powerful than Yoda.

Stupid, stupid, Yoda, Luke thought. To think that only Vader's son was the one to end it all, but to never tell him.

Yoda might gloat, as they stared down at Vader's corpse. "Did not mention this, but your father was he. Yes, mm-hmm," he would hoot in his funny laughter, "Killed your father did you."

And Ben would add, in his soft mournful voice, "He was a good friend. Just as you were a good son. Now Darth Vader is destroyed and Anakin Skywalker can finally rest."

"How dare you!" Luke wanted to roar at them. He'd been terribly used. And if they were using Leia...

Did they know, was the only thing he wanted answered. Were they manipulating her too? Luke had found Ben first, so he was their choice because that was the game the Force played.

Did they know? That Force lesson of the two babies- one brought to Tatooine and one to Alderaan- was that what he was supposed to take from it? That Leia was like him, Force sensitive?

What would happen to Luke, the farm boy, Luke wondered, if Leia was the one trained by Ben. What would happen to Vader the father? Would he still come after his son?

She was beginning to suspect, he thought. She was quiet, delicate. That princess posture, that steel spine, was thinner, brittle; still strong but near snapping.

He wasn't going to tell her. For one, she would use herself. Become a weapon for the Alliance. And he had no doubt whatsoever that Leia could be the one to vanquish Vader.

For another, the things he was most sure of was the knowledge he had worked out for himself. Ben had rather bluntly informed him of his Force ability, and it had taken him a few years to gain his footing. Vader's revelation sent him reeling again, but he recovered more quickly. Because it wasn't about fixing the Force, whatever had happened to it before he was even born. It was about a father reaching out to a son he thought he lost. It was only about two lonely people, seeking to make a connection. That was where the strength was in the Force, in the living.

"You still need a lightsaber," Leia said now, breaking Luke from his thoughts.

Again, he felt noncommittal, unconcerned. It was just a weapon.

 _An elegant weapon, for a more elegant time._

Luke scowled at his boot. Ben probably used his lightsaber almost nonstop during the Clone Wars. And it was not an elegant time. The Republic was in decline, soon to be disbanded, and the users of the lightsabers would all soon be dead too. Except Ben, and Yoda, and Vader, and all three had done something to ensure the Force survived, and that was to nominate Luke but the Force had the last laugh because Leia was here too.

"It's just a weapon," he told Leia. "I have the Force. Anything will work. Vader broke off chunks of the city walls and hurled them at me."

"Han used his blaster against Vader and it had no effect," she contradicted him.

"Han was shooting at Vader?" For some reason the image was oddly cheering, and Luke didn't know why. It was like he took the event out of context. It was what Han would say- or do, since Han hadn't said anything and just reacted with his blaster- if Vader told him he was Luke's father.

 _Captain Solo, I am Luke's father._

 _The hells you are. Bam, bam, bam._ Han would treat Vader's words as character assassination, and his instinctual reaction was to defend, support.

Eyes on the desert, Leia nodded. "The bolts seemed to bounce harmlessly off Vader's glove. And they didn't ricochet. Remember in the garbage masher?"

"Yes," Luke smiled. _Put that thing away before you get us all killed._

"And then he pulled it from Han's hand, from way across the table. It just sort of... sailed to him."

"The Force," Luke affirmed. "How did Han react?" He thought he knew. He thought Han wouldn't believe, couldn't accept what he was seeing, and would chase his blaster with his trigger fingers until it was too far out of reach.

"He was pretty surprised. I was, too. We all were."

"You haven't seen the Force used for much good," he told her. Interrogation, torture, murder. No wonder she looked at him the way she did when he'd jumped from the dome roof. "What was Chewie doing?" She hadn't gone into any detail about what happened on Cloud City and Luke found he was very curious, now that she was in a mood to talk.

"He was spitting."

This time Luke couldn't hide his laugh, and Leia realized her description was comical and laughed too.

"How is he even alive?" Luke grew a bit more serious. For the Wookiee's partner and friend, to whom he swore a life debt, to be so threatened, and for Chewie to come through uninjured...

"It came close," Leia nodded, following his train of thought. "I think... I'm not sure, but I think Vader actually stopped the Hunter from shooting him."

Luke sat up straight. She had all his attention now. "What?"

They were approaching the canyons, and Luke pointed his finger toward the turn-off for the winding path that would take them deep into it. They both pulled off their goggles and the canyon walls grew around them on both sides and shaded the sand road.

Leia concentrated on steering along the narrow path for a while. "It was just before Han was put in," she finally began the story. "Chewie went crazy." She lifted a hand from the wheel to gesture at Luke. "Like you expected, fight to the death. He was roaring, and throwing bodies. I remember colors," she said, entranced. "And sounds. The white of stormtroopers, Han shouting. The light was orange. I was looking toward Vader-"

"Why?" Colors. He was pretty sure, though he wasn't going to employ a test lest he call it to her attention, but Leia was Force sensitive.

"Just- hating him. I don't know. I was looking, he was all blackness, and beside him was a raised rifle, and his black hand pushed it down."

"He saved Chewie?" Luke's head was cocked, frozen in place, eyes jumping all over the canyon walls, trying to work it out.

"That moment, anyway," Leia brushed it off. "Probably wanted to interrogate him later, aboard his destroyer."

"But he could have already," Luke argued. "On Cloud City. He had Han on the scan grid. What were his plans for you? Do you know?" Suddenly nothing was making as much sense. Han on the scan grid, Leia not, Leia, whom Vader had failed to interrogate on the Death Star.

He wanted to shake Leia. _What did Vader do when he found out you were Force sensitive? And I don't mean let the Moff set your execution. I mean what did he_ do? _What did he think?_

Leia dismissed Vader entirely. "Who knows. Lando would ask him, and get different answers."

"Stop ahead, just before that overhang. See it? We'll have to walk from here. Make sure you bring your canteen. It's a steep climb." Luke considered covering the speeder to protect it from making it unusable if the suns touched it, but it was shaded at the moment, and they wouldn't be gone long.

He led the way, pebbles sneaking into the space between his foot and sole, hearing the crunch of rocks behind him as Leia followed. Luke regretted leaving so late now; it was very hot, and Leia panted.

"It can't be that hard to find a lightsaber," Luke said with a quick toss of his head to Leia. "There'd have been a bunch in the Temple."

"Palpatine may have ordered those destroyed," Leia said to his back.

"Not all were stationed at the Temple the time of the Purge. Besides, if I were a trooper collecting them, I'd keep one. Wouldn't you? Same as I know I won't find my earnings chip or image recording device I left on the X-Wing. I bet there's some in museums, or antique shops. I should try a military surplus store."

"It's an idea," Leia granted. She squinted up the hill. "Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Still, it's obvious to look in the home of a Jedi," she said. "And look what happened to you. I imagine lightsabers were lost often."

"He wasn't a Jedi here," Luke corrected her. "And they made their own," he finished.

"Oh," she said, and Luke felt a small flare of triumph as he managed to tell her something she didn't know. "Would you know how?"

"Yoda showed me. Even you could do it," he hinted at her, then rushed over his words, "It's simple mechanics, really; it just needs a crystal, or gem. Something that comes from a planet's creation and carries the Force a user can tap into."

"Does it have to be a special crystal?" Leia asked. "Does it have to, you know, call to you? Be one that is chosen for you, by you?"

Luke shrugged. Yoda had placed great importance on the crystal, but as Luke stomped up the rocky incline he had a dim memory of being lost in the snow and hearing the hum of his saber. "Han used mine, didn't he," he said flatly. Leia didn't answer so he turned around and waited until she was very close. "Didn't he."

"He was saving your life."

"That's not the point. The point is, he was able to use it, and he doesn't have the Force. So stop placing so much importance on if I have a lightsaber or not."

"Alright! I don't know why you want to argue about this." She brushed past him and was the first to enter Ben's home. "Unh," she sighed a groan and leaned on the wall. "It's stifling."

Luke looked at her, small and hunched over, and he felt bad. _She doesn't know,_ he reminded himself. He took a cloth from his waist, his first attempt at Cut Lace, a lesson from Mrs. Darklighter, since he and Leia did everything together, and poured water over it.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her. "Maybe I pushed you too much. Put this on your head. I'll see if the blowers still work."

Leia surveyed the room from where she squatted. "It looks like the only thing that got in here was the sand."

Luke nodded. "Yeah. I told you. Everyone thought he was crazy. Not just us farmers. The Tuskans, the jawas. They were scared of him."

It looked very much the same as the last time he'd been here, only now there was sand not just on the floor, but where Ben slept and ate. On shelves and tables, the trunk where he'd stored Luke's lightsaber for nineteen years.

His father's lightsaber, actually. Another lie. _He wanted you to have this._ The one Anakin had slaughtered Jedi with. The one Luke had treasured, now lost with his hand. It was just as well.

How had Ben acquired Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber? The one Vader used at Cloud City was red-bladed. If a Jedi turned dark, was it required to reject the lightsaber that served you in the light? Or had Vader lost his original, to be found, or won, by Ben.

 _Cunning warrior. A good friend._

Someone lived in the past, Luke thought wryly.

"Did he farm?" Leia asked, breaking into his thoughts and making him start.

"No," Luke said. "This isn't farm land."

"I don't know what you mean by that," Leia said dryly. "It's still the desert. The same air, with humidity in it."

"Farms are out in the Sea, where it's open and you can place lots of condensers." It occurred to Luke he had no idea how Ben earned a living while he lived here. Jedi had no possessions; they accepted the charity of others. So he had not had a lifetime of earnings on a chip like Luke had three years on his. And Ben was not a Jedi here. "I don't know what Ben did to earn money," he said, perplexed. Had he waved his hand? _You will offer me a meal._

The hatch to the blower was a tight seal and he blew on the circuits for good measure to clear it of any sand he couldn't see. It whined and grumbled, but after three years of silence, it blew. Sand was lifted and whirled, the only thing not scared of Ben and the only thing that dared enter the abandoned home, and for a moment Luke and Leia couldn't see each other.

Leia coughed and when he strode over to her saw she was waving at the air. "Let it clear," he told her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her to stand. "Come back outside a moment."

"That was his cover?" Leia asked as they breathed clean air. "A reputation for crazy? I suppose it was effective." She opened the canteen and shook it before taking a drink. "Do you want some?"

Luke could handle the heat. He shook his head no.

When Leia finished drinking she sucked on the inside of her cheek. "He brought you to your aunt and uncle, and that's how he came to be here?"

"Yeah. He was in hiding. I wonder how he liked it here. Must have been quite a shock."

"After years of fighting in the Clone Wars," Leia agreed. "Quiet. He may have stayed for you."

 _Or you,_ Luke thought.

They went back inside and even Luke was grateful the air was circulating. Leia drifted about, lifting a glass, tracing a path on the table with her fingers, and she gingerly tested the mattress on the bed, sitting and bouncing lightly. Luke bent to open the crudely built chest.

"My message was for him," Leia said softly. "I would have come here, then," she looked at Luke, "if you hadn't intercepted it."

He dropped the robe he'd found and turned to meet her eyes. "I told you I'd owe you everything."

"And I would have brought him to Alderaan."

Yes, she suspected, and she was beginning to wonder: if she'd made it, just been a little faster, a little luckier, would Alderaan still be here?

"I don't think it would have changed things," he told her plainly. "They'd have pursued you to Alderaan. Ben would die there instead of the Death Star. You too, maybe, with the planet."

"The war would be very different."

"Yeah." It could have ended quickly, or gone entirely the other way, if she'd been the one to go off with Ben, and he trained her as a Jedi. Force Leia, spanning heavens and earth, no little light at her feet except the one gone out, Alderaan. Luke shivered. She'd done so much already, without a lightsaber, without even knowing the Force was in her.

He wished he could talk to Han about it. _What are the odds of that, huh?_ he'd nudge Han. He needed that perfect Han response, the one that made little of things too big. But he couldn't predict what the smuggler would say.

"Would we still have met, do you think?" Leia said, looking at him tentatively, as if he might go away if she kept wishing for a different destiny, and he felt like a sap. He got up and hugged her.

"Yes," he told her definitely.

She didn't really return his hug. He felt her fingers at his elbows. "And Han?" she said.

He dropped his arms and stepped back so she could see he understood. "He's the one who gives the rides."

She smiled softly and moved off to open some drawers. "Would he still wind up like he did?" she asked.

Luke returned to his inspection of the chest. "You save his life," he told her. "That's how he winds up."

The robe Ben had folded neatly at the bottom was in good condition; dark brown and long. A deep hood, to conceal the face. This was the robe of a Jedi. It smelled of sulfur and smoke, the last place it was worn before Ben stowed it in the airless chest.

"There's no extra lightsaber, huh?" Leia sounded disappointed. "Han would have a back up," she said distractedly, as she began to read the titles on a stack of flimsis.

Luke smiled. "He would. Even if he was a Jedi I think he would."

"He has a whole armory stowed under his bunk, did you know that? All kinds of weapons." She was frowning at a title.

"No. Maybe I should check there."

Leia chuckled. He liked it when she talked of Han. She never meant to, but when she was only half-listening to herself some thought of Han slipped out. If he encouraged conversation she stopped, so all he said was, "Anything good there?"

She nodded. "Some articles on Palpatine. Do you think he thought someday he'd be drawn back into action? One here, 'The Glorious History of the Hutts'. I'm going to take these. Is that okay?"

Luke shrugged. "Sure. It's not mine."

"You know, General Kenobi was like us. He didn't have much. There's hardly any clothes in the drawers. A few dishes. One sheet on the mattress. No shoes. You're taking that?"

Luke had tried on the robe. It was a little too long and the sleeves covered his hands, which he liked. "Yes," he said. "I wish he had some boots." He lifted up his foot to show her how the adhesive Chewie gave him for the soles of his own failed.

"I suppose you could wear a pair of Han's."

"We are the same size. He gave me a pair to use once. I don't know, though. I feel funny. I'd rather wait to ask him."

Leia smiled at him.

They went back to the landspeeder, Luke listening carefully for any Sand People. It was the groans of the bantha that usually gave them away, but the air was quiet.

"Next stop, the _Falcon,_ " Leia announced, donning gloves and dropping the goggles over her eyes. Luke did the same. The day was nearing the Apex, when both suns reached their highest point in the sky, and all beings sought shade.

After traveling a long while in silence, Leia pulled the speeder underneath the _Falcon,_ and they found the Wookiee on the hull, his bow caster at the ready in his lap and a pair of macrobinoculars at his side.

"Come inside, Chewie," Luke said, looking to Leia for help in case he needed it. "The Tuskans sleep this time of day." How Chewie maintained watch on top of the _Falcon_ during the Apex was beyond Luke. It was punishing.

"Master Luke, Mistress Leia," C-3PO greeted them. "Thank goodness you were able to talk Chewbacca down."

Chewie took a seat at the holochess table. "What do you call a Wookiee on Tatooine?" he asked out of the blue.

"Is this a joke?" Luke asked gamely. He was familiar with this set up since he was a boy. It still hadn't changed when a bunch of battle weary pilots used it. _What do you call a wampa in a snowstorm? Hungry! What's an Imp's favorite game? Follow the leader!_ He tried now to guess, his mind sifting through a bunch of juvenile and unfunny answers.

"Sandy?" Leia guessed, and Luke flashed her an appreciative grin.

"Not a joke, just asking a question," Chewie said in a falsely innocent tone.

"Well," Luke said, eyeing how Chewie kept his lips folded over his teeth. Han had clued him in on the body language once at cards: _if he's not showing his fangs, he's bluffing._ If Chewie wasn't joking, then it was a loaded question. "I don't know," Luke gave up. "What's a Wookiee on Tatooine?"

Chewie leaned forward a bit, his weary blue eyes moving to include both Luke and Leia. "An invasive species."

He savored their reaction, coming delayed, and brayed a malicious laugh.

"I disagree, First Mate Chewbacca," C-3PO broke in, completely earnest. "An invasive species is introduced to a new ecosystem, where it begins to thrive, causing harm to native populations, such as competition for food, among other factors. Seeing as you are just one Wookiee, I hardly think you qualify-"

"It was just a joke, 3PO," Luke silenced the droid, patting the metal shoulder and pulling away quickly as it was still hot from the desert suns.

Leia frowned. "That's not funny, Chewie. You provoked them."

Chewie pointed at his chest. "I am provoked," he said loudly.

Leia's eyes flashed at Luke, and he understood she was recruiting his help in bringing the Wookiee around. "Chewie," she began decisively, "Luke needs to make a lightsaber. He needs parts, but he also needs a crystal, or a gem. Do you have anything like that on board?"

Chewie blinked at them.

"He needs it," Leia pressed, "for when we get Han. Can you help him? 3PO and I will monitor the outside for any Sand People," she assured him. "I promise. But I'm not standing outside."

Luke grinned.

"Follow me, Skywalker," Chewie said, and led him back to the storage bays.

It was another smuggling compartment, this one built into the wall, tiny, smaller than the storage locker Luke was given use of on Echo Base. Chewie activated a spring, and a seam appeared away from the wall. Luke pried at it with is fingers, and peered inside.

"He was saving it for part of Jabba's payment," Chewie said.

Luke palmed the chenlet cloth, soft and velvety. It felt heavy, and there was more than one object inside. He unfurled it, and several misshapen rocks rolled into his palm. He looked up at Chewie, the fact of fate and coincidence making his eyes shine.

"Jabba's not getting paid," he told the Wookiee, and Chewie shrugged. "He's not," Luke insisted.

"Will one of those do?"

"Yes," Luke said happily, amazed. He identified it the moment he saw it. "This one." He held it up between his thumb and index finger. It wasn't large, less than two inches in diameter, rough hewn, but an energy pulsed between his fingers, and he felt closer to the idea of being the Jedi he'd let lapse while they waited for Lando. "How did he get it?"

Chewie peered onto the chenlet cloth. "Some we got on Kessel. One he pickpocketed off a gambler he thought was cheating. The one you hold," Chewie pointed with his clawed finger, "was a simple miscount off a haul at the Kuat Driveyards. We were supposed to bring back twenty-five, and that was an extra. Rather than haggle more price, he simply didn't mention it and kept it."

"You're not using his name," Luke observed. "You're talking about Han, right?"

"He is gone."

"For now," Luke nodded.

"It's a weird kind of death, isn't it?"

Luke gave Chewie half a grin. "Especially when he's not dead. Patience, Chewie. We'll help you uphold your honor."

"Do you know, it was all over a control box," Chewie rumbled at Luke.

"A control box?" Luke repeated. He had no idea what Chewie was talking about, but he decided to let the talk flow.

"Property damage. He wanted to see if he could take the shot."

"Ah," Luke said. So this was about the life debt. He still hadn't heard the whole story. Or rather, the true story. From Wedge, he'd heard Han had crashed his Tie fighter into a labor camp and the Wookiees were freed that way, but then Janson had told him Han was raised by Wookiees. Someone else, he couldn't remember who, told him Han had won a slave detail in a shooting contest, but Luke remembered the girl in the stables making Han seem much more principled, claiming he told her he was a slave. "The box that connected all the shock collars?"

"Not for the collars, I believe," Chewie said. "Just the box. Because someone held it, because it was angled off a body. He was a good shot, and he knew it, and he wanted to see if he could do it."

"And he did," Luke guessed correctly.

"You didn't know him then," Chewie said. "He was grand, and an idiot, and he didn't think."

Luke smiled. "Sounds about the same," he said, and Chewie seemed to fold in relief. He'd bottled this up, Luke realized, for years maybe, wondering just why he owed a life debt. Already ancient, by human standards, with a family and a life on Kasshyyk, removed in brutal bondage to the Empire, then freed by a loose, laughing lieutenant who probably made bets on the Wookiees.

"We were property, too. He didn't think about that. He had no idea what he did. No idea. What was a challenge for himself, a game, was property damage to the Empire. And I'm not talking about a shot control box."

"A slave detail."

"He broke the box, he freed us."

Luke nodded, brow furrowed a bit. He could imagine a scene of grisly violence once the Wookiee slave detail realized they were free of the collar.

Chewie leaned down, his face inches from Luke's. "But he only wanted to break the box."

Luke didn't agree. "No," he shook his head. "He's grand, and an idiot, remember? He did one thing because another would happen. That's how he operates. Cause and effect." Except Han didn't think past that. "What happened?"

"What do you think?" Chewie demanded Luke think for himself.

"He's alive," Luke offered.

"No thanks to himself," Chewie stated.

Luke smiled again. "That's why we're here," he assured Chewie. "Do you know what it is?" Luke asked about the rock.

"It's a kyber crystal. They are used in laser production. And yes, once, they fueled lightsabers."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was another day. Luke had a new lightsaber hitched to his belt. He'd sat with the kyber crystal on top of the dome, just thinking on it, drawing from its energy, and he and Chewie managed to scrounge some springs, a switch, and a canister from the _Falcon._ The plasma core chamber came from a shop in Mos Espa.

Chewie came to an uneasy truce with the Tuskan Raiders and he played holochess with R2 instead of taking aim at the sand with his bow caster.

Darth Luke had spoken once. "Keep your friends close," he said. "Or else..."

 _So, the plan so far,_ Luke explained to Han, _is to send Lando in as our inside man. Let us know how many, who's armed, the layout. Things you could tell us, but you can't._

He thought of Han, who had a temper and a sense of humor and who did bad things but sometimes he did the right thing.

 _Lando doesn't know yet. He'll be back in a few days. I don't know Han, you want me to watch out for him? I think Chewie's going to use him as his personal punching bag. You're probably okay with that._

Force Han had once advised Luke to use what he knew, or maybe he'd said use what he had. Both were still good advice. _We've got a con man, two droids, a Wookiee, a Princess, and me. One-handed Jedi Knight. That's the order._

Leia still didn't know, and she was beginning to suspect, and the truth scared her. If Darth Luke got a hold of her, or she learned the wrong way, and those tears still fell, then she was vulnerable. So Luke fed her, in the smallest of increments, the truth, only he disguised it.

"Leia, I need you to meditate with me. Because if something goes wrong, which it might, the only way I'm going to know is through you."

Her lips had parted and her eyes grown wide.

"I don't need everything," he assured her. "Just,' the jig is up. We're captured'. I need practice," he lied to her, "I need you to send me thoughts."

He sat on the dome in the mornings but for the rest of the day he and Leia still did everything together. Mrs. Darklighter looked at Luke curiously, because he cheerfully abandoned any gender role that existed in the moisture farming community. Leia was a farm hand and Luke made Cut Lace. Their favorite activity was setting up the foil oven and cooking stone bread.

In the evenings they sat together with their Lace projects. One day, she sent him, "the jig is up. We're captured."

Without looking up, he smiled, snipping at his fabric with the sharp scissors. "I'm coming," he answered. Then he broke the connection.

Another day, after they got word from Lando he would be arriving soon, she sent to him, "Tell me again."

"It's you," he used the Force quietly, and when she looked uncertain, he told her more. "You're the one who shuts off the thermal regulator."

"I rescue him," she answered.

"Yes."

"Like he rescued me."

Luke looked up in surprise, and said aloud, "Excuse me. I seem to remember I'm the one who entered your cell."

She laughed. "Oh, that rescue."

The last evening before they would ride out to see Lando she sent him, "I had a dream Mr. Darklighter tested positive for Jedi and he's quitting his job."

Luke burst out laughing.

"He was very proud," Leia used her voice.

And Luke decided they were ready, as close as they could be.


	32. The Wait

On the one hand, Lando botched the landing of the X-Wing in the canyons so badly that he just took off.

Luke, Leia and Chewie stared at the emptying sky, and when the sand settled and Luke's hair stopped blowing crazily around his head, they looked at each other.

"He _should_ be embarrassed," Chewie stated, as if he knew Lando's cheeks were burning.

"Where's he going?" Leia said, dismayed.

So Luke learned, for one, Lando was perhaps not as competent as other beings- like Han, who could land with his eyes closed- as they were used to dealing with.

And two, Chewie still regarded Lando with a bit of hostility and a great deal of mistrust. Like he had Luke aboard the Death Star. Luke had iniadvertently brought up Chewie's slave status asking Chewie to wear manacles as a prisoner, but on Cloud City Lando had threatened his honor. While Luke won Chewie's respect quickly, he saw Lando would have to work harder.

"He was too comfortable in Cloud City," he told Luke once. "The soft belly is the easiest to rip open. His is scarred now."

Three, Leia was hopeful, but resigned. They needed Lando, and she didn't like to need.

On the other hand, it gave Luke a Force-inspired notion on how to proceed. Lando's position in their group was precarious. One false move and Chewie would kill him, if Leia didn't shoot him first.

"He probably went to Mos Eisley," Luke explained calmly. "It's alright. I"ll take the speeder in the morning and meet him. It's pretty far from here, but I'll get an early start."

He comm'd the Darklighters to tell them not to worry if they didn't see him or Leia return to the Lars homestead, because they would. They were defined by worry now, ever since they searched for Luke's body among the ashes. It was a way of caring, and Luke was grateful to them, but it was sad, and he wished they didn't.

He set out at First Rise, a satchel of supplies at his side and a cooler of water.

Leia might not get her speeder back but she understood that. She was financing this rescue personally, and the speeder was already money well spent.

"Can I use your chip?" Luke asked her. "Jedi are provided for, you know," he teased, "and I still need new boots."

He was in a good mood, and Leia was upbeat as well. Botched landing or not, incompetence or con, they were finally ready to act.

She placed hers in his gloved palm, and he studied it. His, the earnings from his Commander rank in the Alliance, was on a yellow chip. This was blue.

"What money are you using, anyway?" Luke asked. "Is this your earnings chip?"

"Goodness, no," Leia pretended to shudder. "They'd be on us in a heartbeat. No, I have a private account, from a Coruscanti bank. I've had it since I arrived in Imperial City, since I was fifteen. My father opened it for me. It's under an assumed name. So I could spend, privately, for me. Responsibly, of course."

"Of course," Luke murmured back.

"You don't understand, Luke. A royal is public property. Every expenditure belongs to the citizens. There was a bit of an uproar once about a dress my mother purchased for some gala she held for another visiting royal. It was tansa silk- terribly expensive, and once word got out about the cost, the press has watched- had watched- our expenditures very carefully. Public opinion was we shouldn't be squandering planetary funds on things like dresses."

"I can see how that would make for some bad publicity," Luke said.

"Yes, well." Leia seemed to disagree with public opinion. "It's untraceable. The name is Aneaia Corodana." She smiled wistfully. "Very obviously an Alderaani name, now that I think about it."

"I promise not to spend too much," Luke assured her.

"If Lando has his own money make him spend that," Leia called as he headed down the ramp of the _Falcon._

Chewie advised, "Don't let him kiss your hand."

Luke turned. "What?"

"Don't listen to him," Leia smiled, brushing Chewie away.

Luke finally caught it. "I'll offer my fake one."

"That's the spirit," Chewie laughed.

"Just go," Leia said, still smiling.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Sometimes the simplest con," Lando Calrissian stated with a certain amount of self-importance, "is how you present yourself."

Luke nodded patiently, unimpressed. He eyes moved up and down Lando, taking in the bleached starched white shirt, formerly Han's, buttoned to the throat, and the pressed crisp black vest, similarly fastened but lower cut, also Han's. He waved his palm, indicating Lando's outfit. "And you're presenting yourself as..."

Lando's hands had been sliding garments along a rack, one by one. He halted his motion, looking down at himself.

"A dandy smuggler?" Luke posed. It was almost fun, playing on Lando's uncertainty and guilt. Lando knew he was being conned, and by an amateur at that, but he also seemed to know he was not allowed to change the rules of the game. "I was going for supportive," he mumbled.

That urbane smoothness, combined with the wardrobe- so familiar, yet worn so unfamiliarly- made Luke want to smack Lando across the face. Yet, too, the suave airs weren't practiced and he couldn't deny the man had a certain charm. He wanted to dislike him, thoroughly, but found he couldn't quite make it. Lando was slippery.

"It's all wrong," Luke said emphatically, pulling out a jacket covered in plated scales. "Chewie'd rip your arms out if he saw you in it."

"He did see me!" Lando sputtered truthfully, which made Luke want to like him. "It's what I wore when we left the IMF. I threw my own clothes in the _Falcon's_ autovalet, and he dumped me on Cloud City and didn't let me pack."

They were in a used surplus store, shopping. That's what Lando called it, while Luke preferred to think of it as gathering supplies.

"Just don't let Leia see you in that," he surrendered sullenly. If Chewie let it slide, then he would have to as well. "She _will_ rip your arms out."

"I almost believe you," Lando said graciously, and Luke smiled, though he didn't let the con man see.

He fingered the scaled jacket thoughtfully. It was probably too small. It might fit Leia, who still needed a cover to provide safe entry into Jabba's. "Chewie told me you had a cape to rival Vader's," he reminded Lando lightly. Shopping, indeed. "How'd that go over?"

Lando visibly blanched. "Not well," he admitted with a scowl. "Though not because of the cape." He eyed Luke darkly, and resumed his search for something suitable to wear.

"Did you even try to refuse him?" Luke asked, curious.

Lando looked at Luke like he was crazy. "Lord Vader? Representing the Empire? Would you?"

He played right into Luke's hands. "I did," Luke said simply. "So yes."

Lando tugged at the stiff collar rubbing against his neck. He was starting to resent Luke, it seemed. Which was fine, and necessary. Luke's idea was to seem a little crazy. Unconcerned one moment, intense the next. When Lando measured himself against Luke he fell short, just as he had against Han, and against Leia. It was adding up, and his self-esteem was taking a beating.

They moved down the rack. There were several Imperial uniforms, which was interesting. Lando pulled out a chest plate. After a moment Luke asked, "Would you have still hatched that crazy escape plan? For whoever Vader wanted?"

" _I_ needed to escape," Lando admitted frankly. "Sure, I'd take anyone who needed to go."

Luke studied Lando. He had changed before Leia from oily to heroic. She'd always wondered whether for her, or Han, or himself. Luke had an answer for her now. "I had some stuff stowed on the Wing," he mentioned casually. "Would you know if they left anything after it was searched?" He was thinking of his duffel, and how Yoda used it liked a lectern while Luke trained.

"I found a sock," Lando said inattentively, holding up a cream colored pair of pants against his waist. "There wasn't even a flight suit."

"You can keep the sock," Luke said bitterly. "Is that what took you so long? No flight suit?"

"Partially. I had to make small jumps, quick hops so I didn't freeze. But then I picked up a suit, second hop I believe. No, what took so long was I had some things to take care of. I was holed up in my former assistant's chamber for a while. He brought me food, anything I needed. The Empire was pulling out. The mine was handed over privately, to a Moff of course, but I waited for things to return to business as usual before I made my move."

Leia had told Luke of the accommodations she and Han received when they arrived at Bespin. A bowl of fresh fruit, merely decor, seemed like heaven to those that had been on sublights with no fresh food or sunlight for months. She'd described the sunken bath, the oversized bed, the robes and lounge wear provided in the room. Lando, 'holed up' was still light years in comfort from the type of life Luke and Leia had been living. And Han, who was barely living at all.

Luke gritted his teeth. Time to show nasty, he thought. He stepped up to Lando, in his personal space. "There's a reason you're going in first, you know. Before the two droids even. It's so if the plan screws up we only lose you. You're the expendable one."

He moved off, to look at footwear, aware his anger was real. He hoped he hadn't revealed too much. Lando had actually looked frightened, eyes wide, a hand moving to fiddle with the top button of Han's shirt.

They finished shopping separately. In addition to new boots Luke picked up a shirt and pants for himself. It might be used, but it was still new to Luke. He hoped Leia wouldn't mind, and he wished she were with him to help him pick something out. But he was satisfied.

Outside, Lando showed him the head piece he'd found, buried under a sloppy tangle of fabric hats. It had a metal plating for the scalp, and Luke didn't bother to tell him how hot it would be under the suns, and the jaw piece was decorated with bones and a pair of curved tusks.

Luke reverted to cheerful. "Nice," he enthused. "Now let's go see about applying for that job," and he clapped Lando heartily on the shoulder and led him to the cantina he had entered with Ben three years previously.

He went there because he didn't know anywhere else. He hadn't admitted this to anyone, not even Ben, but that had been his first time to the port city. As a youth, his family never needed to travel this far. Anchorhead had all they needed, and when Uncle Owen sold the harvest, the shipping companies came right to the farm to pick up the water, using the desert as their landing pad. He and Biggs had wanted to visit, and thought about sneaking off, but it was just so far. They'd use up so much time in the travel, and both Mr. Darklighter and Uncle Owen would be on to them.

He was grinning to himself as he and Lando stood just inside, taking a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the poor lighting. They slid into a booth, and Lando asked, "What are you smiling about?"

Luke smiled again. He must still look crazy. Good. "Oh," he said, "I have fond memories of this place."

A server took their drink orders- not a server droid. Luke remembered the proprietor didn't like droids- and they waited in silence for them to be brought. Lando was checking the other patrons out, his dark eyes shrewd and observant.

Luke pushed the drink tab toward Lando and touched his water glass against Lando's wine glass. "To Han," he said.

Lando responded, clinking his own glass. "To Han," he responded.

Luke tried not to react. He shouldn't find fault, either, but Han had distinctly pronounced his name, rhyming it with the ending of 'Alderaan'- _aan; Haan-_ when he introduced himself to Luke and Ben. Lando said it differently. He said 'Han' with the same pronunciation as 'man', or 'can'. "Han the man," he rhymed. "Never could say that before."

Lando was wary. "I'm from Soccoro," he explained.

"Another Outer Rim Planet," Luke said brightly, though Lando had no other form of accent he could distinguish in his Basic. "How long have you known Han?" _aan._

Lando took a drink and swallowed, holding up a palm. "We go way back."

"That's the same Han told Leia," Luke said. "Was Chewie with him? Is that how you understand him? Not many do."

"Yeah." Lando broke eye contact. He looked thoughtful. "How are they? Chewie, and Leia."

Luke rubbed his thumb nail along the rim of his glass. "They'd like this to be over with."

Lando nodded. "I'm here now," he said with that trace of conceit Luke found irritating, but he was pleased he'd asked about Leia and Chewie. At least right now his intentions were honorable. He was repentant. "So let's get it over with."

"You're first," Luke said, more kindly than he had earlier. "We're all going to come. You're to provide intel. The kinds of weapons searches done on visitors, we'll need to know where Han is, if there's more than one exit. How many we need to get by. That kind of thing."

"I can do that." Lando was still nodding.

"Don't touch Han. Wait for us. Got that? It's important. And I have a satchel in the speeder for you. At some point you'll have to smuggle it in. Bury it outside, or hide it under a rock. It's medicines for Han."

Lando's brows shot up. "You plan on releasing him there?"

Luke thought menacing was the appropriate response. "Why not? Is there something you want to tell Leia now about carbonite?"

"Uh, no- I thought- it's just-" Lando rubbed his throat.

"In case we fail. Leia doesn't want him a statue forever."

"If you fail and he's out, Jabba will kill him."

"He's a statue," Luke repeated. "A living, breathing, non-breathing statue. And he knows where he is. Leia feels death is preferable."

"Maybe she should ask him," Lando said.

"Maybe she did. Think of their last, Lando."

Lando nodded again. "Alright. I'll leave it up to her."

"Yes, you will." Luke placed his palms on the table as Lando rubbed his throat again. "We're glad to have you along," he told the con man as he stood to leave. "And I think even you are. You've got guilty fingers. You keep tugging at Han's shirt. You worried he's going to strangle you when he gets out or something?"

Lando looked like he would fall out of his seat, and Luke laughed a little. Then Lando said, clearly alarmed, "No, it's you!"

" _I'm_ going to strangle you?" Luke shook his head. "If I were, I'd have done it already."

"It's- when you talk like that. About refusing Vader, and then you take the same tone. Like you know I'll obey, or else. _He_ choked me!"

Luke took his seat again. "You're saying Vader tried to kill you?"

"No! I don't even know it was him. Just, he'd be displeased, and I'd feel like I had no air. He never touched me. I was either allergic to him, or so scared my throat swelled."

Luke laughed softly. "You weren't allergic," he said knowingly.

"I don't like being scared," Lando said.

Luke experimented with the Force. He aimed at a Rodian seated at the next table, for no reason other than he was close by. He wasn't angry, or murderous. Simply curious. It took no thought at all, and he gathered that Force energy all over the room and pushed on the Rodian's thorax. He let go when the being started coughing and his companion slapped him on the back.

He stood again. "Well, thanks for everything. Let us know something as soon as you can." He walked stiffly to the door, half terrified and half exhilarated.

He left the cantina and was so preoccupied he had no recollection of making his way along the sandy streets to docking bay 127 where his X-Wing waited.

He could kill _. Kill._ Even when he didn't want to, didn't mean to. And not with a blaster, or his lightsaber. With his will. His will was the Force.

When had this happened? When he learned the Force? Was stopping someone's air the same as lifting stones? Or was it Darth Luke? Could Leia kill like this? Would she?

He could kill, without the dark side. Unless he had slipped and he didn't know it; didn't see it in himself. But wouldn't Leia? and Chewie?

It wasn't all light side and dark. It was just a very thin line. Dark was part of light, and the other way around. It must be possible to shut one part out, or most of it anyway, but the two existed within each other.

If someone else had the Force, developed their ability- not like Leia- he would say it was too much power. He understood Lando's apprehension. Understood why Han, who didn't know any Jedi, had somehow picked up the prejudice anyway. And he knew why Palpatine had to kill them.

He made a perfect landing in the canyon, and disembarked to Chewie applauding.

"How's False Pilot?" he asked.

Luke nodded. "He's ready. He'll do."

"Good."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They'd lived on Tatooine already a month, and they had more waiting to do. Luke hated to do it, but without the landspeeder it was too far to cross the desert from homestead to _Falcon_ so he comm'd the Darklighters and asked them to look after the Lars farm for him.

"We'll be coming back," he assured them. "We're helping out a friend."

There was no word from Lando the first week and Leia paced under the hull, in the shade. Chewie went out to make sure she didn't get overheated, and Luke could sense them in his mind, talking quietly. _If love was a power like death,_ he thought.

Chewie marked the desert with pole stakes, marking each day of the wait. They were tall so the sand didn't cover them.

Luke got his first comm two weeks after he left Lando in Mos Eisley. _I staged a fight._

"I really hope conditions in carbonite don't deteriorate," Leia said.

Twenty stakes were lined in the sand. _I've got a meeting._

Twenty-five. _Major domo says not hiring._

Luke comm'd back. _Offer a bribe._

Thirty stakes. _I'm in. Extensive weapons search. Guards issued axes after probationary period._

"Probationary period?" Leia questioned. "Jabba sounds like he has a fairly organized personnel resources department."

One after that. _Twenty guards. At least fifty beings on duty at all times. Not counting slaves._

"How will we get past all them?" Leia worried.

Luke thought, _I could train you, and we could kill everyone, because we need to._

But he wouldn't do that to her.

 _Han's not in the dungeons._

"Where is he, then?" Leia looked to Chewie.

"The dungeons are for those waiting Jabba's punishment," Chewie told her. He explained he only knew of the palace what Han had told him. "He went alone. He thought it best Jabba only saw his pilot. He said he wouldn't be surprised if Jabba held me to arrange fight contests."

"Han's already punished," Luke said. "The carbonite."

"Why doesn't he check elsewhere?"

Chewie shrugged. "He's a guard. He has a station."

In the middle of the night when Luke was too groggy to remember how many stakes were outside, he received another comm. _He's in the antechamber directly across from the throne._

He went and woke Leia immediately. "Thank goodness," she breathed. They didn't sleep the rest of the night. Leia told him about what she'd read about the Hutts. That they were the reason for the existence of the galaxy. "Suns are born for them," she'd described.

Forty five stakes. Only _one access point that I can find. Been all over this place by now._

Fifty. _There's so much blood in here. I don't sleep._

"He's not falling apart, is he? Maybe we should go in," Chewie posed. He hammered the fifty-second stake.

 _I swear I don't know how long I can keep this up._

Luke asked Leia for the flimsi she had pulled from Ben's house. "The Glorious History of the Hutts? Sure."

Sixty stakes. "Three months, Luke," Leia groaned. "I can't take it."

Sixty-one. _Jabba had his translator droid disintegrated._

"An opening!" Luke exulted. He pulled R2 aside. "No weapons allowed so I'm going to give you this." He inserted his lightsaber into the droid. "Kind of like Leia with the Death Star plans, right?" R2 beeped solemnly. "Now, I need you to carry a message to Jabba the Hutt. You and 3PO will leave in the night. The Tuskans won't bother you and I don't want you apprehended by jawas again. Remember?"

The astromech droid gave a low whistle and Luke smiled. "I know. Remember how well you kept the Princess's secret?"

There was an excited burst of beeps.

"I know, it caused a heap of trouble. But it's alright, you did what you were supposed to do. I need you to do it again. When you get before Jabba, play it. And don't beep a word to 3PO, got it?"

R2 beeped understandingly.

 _Jabba laughed at your message. What's the big idea? When are you coming?_

Seventy-two stakes. _Hunters allowed armed. Feast every night when there's a special guest._

"Leia!" Luke shouted. "Leia! Chewie!"

He told them his idea. "It was a good plan then, and it is again, Chewie."

Chewie's fangs gleamed. "Prisoner transfer."

"Exactly," Luke said happily. "You're Han's partner. You're captured and a hunter is coming for his reward. It's the only way to get you in."

"But I'll be restrained."

"Yeah," Luke waved it away. "Lando's there. Don't worry."

Chewie didn't look as convinced, and Luke laughed. It felt really good to have things in motion after so long.

And so Chewie made a quick drop from the _Falcon_ , depositing Luke and Leia on the sand in front of the Lars homestead. The Darklighters visited the next day, inquiring after their friend.

"I love the Darklighters," Leia told Luke.

She took up the count. She baked little pieces of stone bread in the foil oven, and lined them up, hard and overbaked, like stones, on the crate she used as a nightstand.

"It's just the two of us now," she said when she counted eight. "Our numbers are dwindling."

"No," Luke disagreed. "Our numbers are fine. And soon we'll add one."

There was no word from Chewie.

"What if he's killed?" Leia fretted. "Or truly captured?"

Lando messaged them daily now. It seemed he'd won a bit of freedom, at least of movement. He was a trusted guard.

 _When_ , he would simply comm.

 _C3PO has new dents. I haven't seen the R2 unit since it arrived._

This worried Luke a bit. What if the droid was dismantled, for parts? What if his lightsaber had been found inside him? He took comfort in the fact C-3PO was still functioning. R2 was far more resourceful, and loyal, almost excessively so.

 _When._

Luke and Leia trained. She started out barely able to stand herself up on her hands, her heels resting against the sandstone wall, Han's shirt tucked in her pants so it didn't fall over her face.

"Show off," she scolded Luke, who seemed to almost float on the fingertips of one hand, his other arm and legs making an elegant design.

 _When._

There was still nothing from Chewie.

"I wish we could check the bounty hunter guild," Leia said. "Get an idea of where he went. Who he's after."

 _When, gods damn it._

Thirty-two stones. At night, when it was cool, he and Leia scaled the wall to the domed roof using a rope.

At thirty-six stones Leia told him her blisters were healing. She raised her arms in the air, and as if she wished it, she stood on them straight and strong, not even shaking.

"Think Han will like my muscles?" she joked.

"He's always liked mine," Luke teased back, and she threw a stone bread pebble at him.

Forty-eight pieces of dessicated bread later, and Chewie appeared. He was haggard, his fur a mess, for he had walked from the canyon's hiding space. He collapsed on the sand after throwing a case at Leia's feet.

"Get him some water!" she shouted in alarm. "Chewie! Please! Please, please."

He needed three days to recover. "I'm going to ask Mr. Darklighter if we can borrow his speeder for you and Leia," he told Chewie gently from the pallet. "You don't have to punish yourself."

"Honor is punishment."

"It isn't. And you scared Leia to death."

 _When._ And finally, Luke was able to answer. _Tomorrow._

Leia smoothed down the fabric of her disguise. Her hair was the simplest he'd seen it, a low braid.

"My heart is beating so fast," she said.

"You look great," he assured her. "You don't even look female. Or human. Let me set the translator on that voice box."

"Who am I again?"

"Boushh the bounty hunter."

"I can barely see in it. I hope I'm able to locate Han."

"You will. You studied Lando's layout."

"You'll come?"

"As soon as you need me."

"How will you get here? You can't take Mr. D's speeder, can you?"

"No. Don't worry. I'll walk. It'll be fine, Leia," he said to her worried expression. "It'll be cool, and I have the Force."

She was going to be skeptical, but he wouldn't allow it. "Tuskans got one Skywalker. And the ones that have come after won't let it happen again."

He sat while she was away, like a gargoyle on the roof. He could feel her heart beating, rapid and strong. He felt she was nervous but there was no pain, no fear. She was pulling it off.

A bantha moaned in the night and Leia was sneaking through the palace, her heart beating faster than she moved. He knew she was holding her breath, knew she was watching, chanting under her breath, urging something forward. A spike of joy, and Luke's face split into a grin.

Han- for the first time in too long, the presence of his friend, that he'd never felt so clear before because so much had changed- and now Luke's heart was beating fast. Something right, something that was missing, that he hadn't known was missing, was here, and all in Luke's world- touch, and laughter, and friends- became- warmer.

It lasted just a moment, because - the comm at his wrist pinged, and Luke told it, without answering it, _get him the meds,_ and Leia- her heart was absolutely drumming now, and she was strong, but not strong enough to hold Han up, and while her arms trembled and her heart beat, she called out _Luke-_

 _Leia,_ he tried.

Han was fading and Leia was- many things. Dismay, and surprise and cynicism and disgust. But her arms were empty and worry was paramount.

His wrist pinged again. Lando had written, twice, _You'd better come._

Luke jumped down from the roof. He went inside, changed into the clothes he had bought in Mos Eisley with Lando- how long ago? He scheduled a comm to be delivered to the Darklighters in a few hours, when they were up. _Our friend again. We won't be gone long, promise._

He put on the robe he'd found in Ben's old trunk. As he set out in the night, Darth Luke fell into step beside him.

"Fight evil with evil you decided, right?" he asked smoothly.

"I am you," Luke told his mirror image. "I always have been. So I don't need you."

Darth Luke vanished with a disappointed air, and Luke kept walking.

 _AN: I'm sorry to take so long between updates. This is a really difficult movie to write for! Maybe you'll agree with me, or maybe not - but plot-wise, when you really sit down and think about it, there were some big holes and I am applying lots of putty :)_

 _Anyway, we've got some action starting finally. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review. Thank you!_

 _And to those reviewers I haven't gotten around to saying thank you yet, I will, but I say it here too. I appreciate you SO much._


	33. Rescued

Luke walked the desert in the night, his shiny new black boots crunching the sand with a hiss. He was recounting to himself two stories- the one about the farm boy and the princess, and the smuggler and the Hutt- and how they had converged into one.

And he was having a bit of a revelation. His thoughts had sidetracked – he'd been maintaining an imaginary conversation with Han, once they were reunited, catching him up on everything: Chewie's war with the Tuskans, the eleven liters of water Luke was very proud to have grown with one condenser, the imbalance in the Force, all the new things Leia learned to do.

He told Han, "I always thought it was Leia, you know."

 _Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope._ The damsel in distress, the one with the curse placed upon her, always in need of rescue.

He quit muttering to himself, deep in thought. Leia had never given full credit to either Han or Luke for helping her escape the Death Star.

" _Let's get one thing clear,"_ she had seethed to Luke in their only fight. " _I'm the one who got me on the Death Star, and I'm the one who got us off."_

"I think I'm the sidekick," Luke told Han now. _She_ was the brave knight. Always- Leia, with a senator's diplomacy and royal persuasion. It was Han who crashed them in the ocean of Ord Mantell but it was Leia who got them away, provided medical care to all of them – Chewie, Han and Luke- _damn,_ Luke thought.

Han was the one in need of rescue. Literally, yes, but overall, all the time they knew him- Luke floundered a little. Because he needed a place to stay? It was confusing. It certainly didn't fit folklore conventions of story telling. The smuggler versus the Hutt. A lesser evil against a greater one? The smuggler under the spell of the Hutt?

There was that one story, though, where the innocent and beautiful Princess fell under a spell and could only be woken by love's kiss. Han sort of fit that. If you changed innocent to criminal and princess to nobody. Woken to thawed.

"Maybe it's the story of the nobody who becomes somebody, and somehow the knight and the princess come to believe in you and help you on your quest. I don't know," Luke grumbled aloud. "Why didn't you just pay the bounty off a long time ago?"

One thing was clear, though. They each had a separate story, and their roles changed depending on which one unfolded at the moment. Luke could definitely pinpoint when he'd been the brave knight, the one in distress and in need of rescue, and the helping sidekick.

Leia was the knight in this story, and it was Luke's task to help her complete the quest.

He was trying very hard to not take control and just do it himself. He could, but that wouldn't be right.

And he was trying not to feel so protective of Leia.

It was hard. The knight was to be tested, that's how it went. Luke remembered his own test. It had been awful; the toughest thing he'd ever undergone, but when he came through he realized he would do it all over again.

It was the kind of test Leia would face that made Luke so uncomfortable. It wouldn't be a defining moment so much as- abuse. The kind of physical torment that changed one to their very soul. She'd endured something of the kind already on the Death Star. Slowly, she'd been beginning to emerge from the horror of Alderaan and the torture.

This, Han's rescue, was important to her. Something about his circumstance- his own torture, by Vader too, then the freezing- mirrored her own journey. The pain, living with its consequences, pushing everything down, away - she froze herself.

And Han was nothing. Vader had wanted Leia to talk; he only wanted Han to scream. The carbonite freeze was just to see if it killed a sentient being; an experiment. The laser fired at Alderaan had also been a test.

Yes, Luke knew her reasoning when she didn't even know it herself. When she released Han, she would free herself. And she would release herself into the arms of the man who helped her see the truth.

Luke sighed, and trudged along. They had planned as well as they could. Leia impersonating the bounty hunter was brilliant, perfect.

Except.

If.

The carbonite slab, whether stolen away or melted, would not go unnoticed. And Jabba would put two and two together.

It was a constant source of worry for Luke and Chewie as they planned, but Leia seemed to know it was just her trial.

"When Jabba finds out who you are.." Luke groaned, his face in his hands.

"When he sees you are a human female," Chewie added, grooming his throat worriedly.

"... he'll make you a slave," Luke finished.

"A slave who is a Princess," Leia said. "Jabba will like that."

"Leia," Luke moaned.

"He thinks it will be the greatest humiliation. Not just a slave, any slave in the palace, but _his_. Don't you see it it keeps me safe?"

"Oh, gods," Luke said. "I think of explaining to Han..."

"Explain it, then. Luke, listen," Leia had leaned forward, completely earnest and serious. "If you give him what he thinks he's won, he's all the weaker."

"While that sounds wise, Princess," Chewie shook his head dolefully. "The things we've heard, though."

Luke latched on to Chewie's point. "Right- he'll _chain_ you to him."

"And he'll be chained to me," Leia said unconcerned. "I'll have him where I want him."

"You will?" Chewie had said, looking at Luke.

 _This is Leia's story,_ Luke reminded himself. _It needs to be her. She gets Han._ So he agreed.

He was not completely alone as he walked. Lando comm'd with a couple of updates. Luke was relieved to learn he'd been able to administer a stim shot to Han. It was a combination of numerous drugs designed to place the human's central nervous system in overdrive. It would hold off the worst of hibernation sickness and carbonite poisoning for a few hours.

And Leia had broken into his thoughts.

 _I'm wearing my new disguise._

Luke grunted in appreciation for her, that wry humor firmly in place.

 _The others are in the dungeon. I have my own metal cage._

 _You're in a cell?_

 _In a manner of speaking_. Her voice, articulating silently in his head, still dripped venomous irony.

 _Leia,_ he warned, _it's not the time to be funny._

 _Who said this is funny?_

 _Just keep Jabba occupied._

 _I have been._ He felt a smug satisfaction from her. _I've been stepping on his tail. Or twisting it in my hand. Han told me once it's very sensitive. Jabba is high, inebriated and falling asleep._

Luke probed her mood, but she was frankly grim, utterly in control. _You sure you're_ _o_ _kay?_

 _It's not debasing if you choose it, Luke._ _I m so haughty he won't let anyone touch me. Hurry, though. He's disgusting._

 _Hurrying._ Maybe he was being overly male, sexist. She wasn't new to undercover missions. Hadn't she stolen the plans to the Death Star? It went without saying she was capable. And she was able to separate duty before self. So he needed to let Leia be Leia and get done how she thought it best.

Luke wrote a hasty message to Lando: _Stay with L. And make_ _sure Han knows._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The palace was nothing. Tremendous, windowless walls of ancient sand, and it fell away before him. Luke swept through the tunnel-like corridors, taking his time, exerting his control. Gamorreans- grunting, stupid creatures- collapsed against the stone before they realized he had taken their air away. He could kill them outright, but didn't think it necessary. Something breathed under his feet, hungry, pacing. Luke saw himself down there, and the gamorreans were no obstacle.

It was quiet. He didn't see Lando, and he would like to know where R2 was, so he could have his lightsaber.

Just before reaching the throne room he was stopped by a Twi'lek, but nothing held Luke up for long. He lifted a finger. "I must be allowed to speak with Jabba," he told the alien, and his eyes gleamed as the Twi'lek repeated his words.

Luke told the Twi'lek things as they continued to Jabba, and the Twi'lek uttered them like they were his own thoughts. The ease in which he bent the Twi'lek's will... _I'm rescuing Han and Leia, Luke told himself. I don't want power. I don't need power._

But he only need ask for it. Now the dark side was around him, not to seduce but to undermine. He recognized it, separate from himself, and he was a little awed of it. It was a beautiful falseness, easy solutions and flattery. It promised greatness, and Luke wondered if he would be more tempted if it didn't show him alone.

But it didn't. It was Luke's darkness. It wasn't concerned with anything else. It isolated, wrapped a soul up in its own mania, kept one apart and above.

Like the light side, how the Jedi Order tried to live, but the light side kept a gentle watch. There was life to share; that's how the light side grew. The dark was more like a Tatooine sandstorm, obscuring, eroding, feeding upon itself until only chaos was left.

The place had an air of spent carnality. They stepped over beings sprawled on the floor. Some were sleeping, Luke was pretty sure, but others might even be dead. The sand was stained by splotches of drink and blood, remnants of the previous evening's feast. It smelled of smoke, and blood, and depravity.

He and the Twi'lek entered the throne room and Luke's head swung to the right of its own accord, pulled there by Leia.

 _Metal cage. Ah, Leia,_ he thought. _You have such a way with words._ A metal collar, attached to large links of a durosteel chain, was around her neck. Around her breasts, a tiny metal bra, ornately worked, and she had been made to change into a skirt, the waist band an uncomfortable looking belt of metal. She sat at the base of the throne, Jabba's big belly pressing into her back, the only one alert and awake in the room.

Anxiously, he took in her appearance, and relaxed when he saw no cuts or bruises. She was looking at him intently too, surprised by the new boots and pants and jacket he'd been saving for this, his first appearance as Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker. Her brow was furrowed and she looked like she was disturbed by something. But her hands made no move to cover her bare legs, to pull a pillow and hide her middle; she didn't sit up straight so he would take in less of her cleavage. He got the feeling she was more shocked by his outfit than hers, but that didn't make sense.

The Twi'lek leaned toward Jabba's ear and whispered. The Hutt's huge eyes snapped open and Luke watched the pupils dilate as he focused on him. Jabba's arm jerked with a start, the one holding the chain connecting him to Leia, and her body had to follow it.

She had done it. Achieved the highest status a female human could in Jabba's palace. She was his trophy.

She was to show that she had passion, for someone else, and Han made that part easy. She was to take off her helmet, reveal her youth and beauty. She was to rouse Jabba's sense of competition and inform him she had powerful connections, so he could strip them. She was to become a slave.

Luke didn't expect the outfit, though. Jabba really was weird. But the effort in getting her dressed had even bought Han and Chewie some extra time, as someone had to ensure Leia had bathed, been made up. Her hair was elaborately arranged, and Luke suspected it was an Alderaani expression of Leia's choice. He was sure she had stalled, delayed, dragged her feet. Jabba wouldn't order anyone's execution until his pet was by his feet to watch.

Luke didn't speak Huttese, just the common swear words he'd learned as a child, but C-3PO emerged from behind the throne to translate.

Hutts thought they were gods and expected to be treated with a reverential formality. It was odd, talking to this Hutt, who was surrounded by gangsters and smugglers and drug addicts, using elevated language that sounded elegant coming from C-3PO, but was unnatural to a farm boy. Luke had rehearsed how to talk to the Hutt during his walk. It might be the only time he had ever called Han 'Captain Solo.'

"It's your choice," he informed Jabba calmly, "but I warn you not to underestimate my powers." He glanced at Leia quickly. One corner of her mouth had that wry smile, and her brows grazed her forehead expectantly. She thought it too, how strange it was to hear him boast of possessing the Force.

Negotiation would fail. He knew that. His part was to let Jabba think a simple Hutt death would suffice for this Jedi. He and Leia had discussed this.

"Hold the Force at bay if you can," she had instructed. "Don't let him see it. It's our wild card."

 _Just a little bit, Leia._ He lifted his arm to catch a guard's blaster. Everyone reacted at once. Bodies surged forward, the blaster was in his hand, Jabba's fist punched down on something, and the last thing Luke saw before the floor opened up below his polished boots was how Jabba's movement jerked Leia's body to the side, her hands flying instinctively to the collar. His shot went wild, the blaster knocked from his hand forward as someone bumped him.

His robe flapped unevenly across one shoulder as he landed. One of the gamorreans had fallen with him and was squealing in terror, clambering to a hatch, tugging on the bars uselessly.

It smelled horrible. Smells Luke was vaguely familiar with, urine and refuse and mildew. He looked around. Above him Jabba laughed deeply, and when Luke looked up he saw Lando and Leia peering anxiously at him.

He prepared himself. What he'd sensed before, a breathing hunger, was somewhere behind a crudely cut stone wall. The floor was sand, but different than the sand he knew. No sun and dank air colored the grains. The gamorrean kicked a rib cage as it ran by. Other bones were scattered about; some moist, covered with sand- a fresh kill, Luke realized. On the other side of the great chamber was a huge, barred gate. _Another metal cage_ , Luke realized. _I'm in the rancor's den._

Luke shrugged off his robe. With the Force he could end this quickly, easily. It was too bad for the rancor, and it was too bad for the gamorrean, too, but Luke had to put on something of a show for Jabba, make it look like he was vulnerable.

He merely stood still the first moments. He didn't even have to suggest to the rancor first _eat that one_ ; the gamorrean made it too easy. The beast was magnificent, with armored skin and nails and teeth half as long as Luke's body. He could tame it, he thought. Wouldn't that be something. Talk to it; understand its miserable existence here. Show Jabba what subjugation was, how different it could be when mercy was applied.

But Jabba was a Hutt. He had an appetite for violence and death, and that's what Luke would have to give him if he wanted to see Chewie or Han again, so he let himself be caught, curled in the giant creature's fist, and he made the rancor furious when he wedged a bone vertically between his jaws, to be splintered when he bit. And he hid, seeming to cower out of the rancor's grasp, or he dashed around for show a bit, running to the bars and pulling on them desperately as the gamorrean had done so that Jabba would laugh, his slow deep _ho ho._ And when the time was right he used the Force, once to make it look like the rancor had an equal opponent, leaping high to the bars that made the floor hatch where Jabba watched, and Leia, who actually looked worried. Then he used the Force again, this time hidden, to guide a rock to smash the control panels and crush the beast's skull.

He looked up, panting. Leia smiled in relief and Jabba jerked it away with the chain. Guards rushed into the den and Lando was dragging Luke away for an audience with Jabba.

C-3PO was once again called to translate, "You will all be made to suffer," he said tremulously, and from somewhere behind Luke, over Jabba's roars of outrage and the excited cries of palace inhabitants he heard the distinct growls of a Wookiee. His eyes found Leia's again, and they shared a small smile.

It was hard to know anymore, how Shyriiwook sounded to the uninitiated ear. Luke used to cringe, and feel afraid of the growls, like he was always being threatened, when Chewie was probably only saying something like _nice to meet you_ or _a droid is beating me at chess._ It was a fierce-sounding language, Luke thought now, garbled and low in the throat, "Han, there's a curve; move to the right," and "Duck your head- now."

"Han!" Luke couldn't help but call out as guards pushed him into the room. Han was squirming under their touch, as if he couldn't bear it.

"Are you alright?" Luke asked cautiously.

"Fine," Han said. The stim shot seemed to be doing its job. Han looked dreadful, wet sand clinging to his clothes still sopping with liquid carbonite, but he was moving, he could stand, and he could lie. "Where's Leia?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond, delayed by a sharp tug at his elbow- a guard telling them to stop talking. Leia was right there- _there-_ at Jabba's belly, the base of the throne. He was going to answer with a question of his own _don't you see her?_ when Leia called out, "I'm here!"

Lando was watching Han, too, and Luke wanted to ask about the medications, and warn Lando to get things ready, pack, find his robe, but he wouldn't give away Lando's cover yet. The other guards considered him one of their own, and trusted him, and Lando was doing a good job of pushing his way to the front, fighting for the glory of handling Jabba's prisoners.

They were all to be dropped into the Sarlacc Pit. 3PO's vocal intonations were very good, Luke thought; he'd always thought that. It should make the droid less annoying, but somehow worked against him. Maybe it was due to how he'd been programmed: fearful and pessimistic. When he pronounced the description of slow digestion, a period of a thousand years within the creature, he sounded like he was already mourning his master.

Was Jabba trying to instill terror? It seemed a silly depiction of death. Luke worried for himself a moment; not about the manner of death, but the fact that he was without fear and dread. Had the Force done this to him? Given him a false sense of security that he was above even death?

He sneaked a glance at Han and Chewie, assessing if they looked at all worried. Han had a sort of vacant, studying look on his face and Chewie was making jokes.

"Doesn't sound so bad," Han managed to say.

Chewie answered with a yowl, "Because humans die so quick. Old age'll get you in there long before it gets me!"

Luke agreed. Maybe that was important to a Hutt, who lived for centuries, but not at all to a human. He muttered back to Chewie, "I don't think that's true anyway. It eats krayt dragons from what I know."

A guard jerked his bound arms again, hard, and Luke decided to stay quiet. It wasn't a good idea to take Jabba's fun away.

But he felt a happiness as he was roughly led away to a sail skiff. Everything was hopeless, but it was all of them- Leia, Han, Chewie, the droids; even Lando- together against all odds. It was, as he told Han to cheer him up, just like old times.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jabba, master entertainer, was throwing an execution party on his yacht. It was four times the size of the skiff Luke rode on, several levels deep, with windows and large sails for shade. And it was wood, which was a sight to behold on a waterless planet. The repulsor lift technology for the engines must have cost a fortune. He observed a number of hatch openings, which told him the yacht was also well-armed.

It would have been nice not to have to go up against so many weapons, but Jabba was a paranoid being, and Luke saw it may not be as easy as he had hoped. The party was not on deck, but one level below. Luke could hear music wafting out between the wooden boards and he saw numerous beings pass by a window. Leia stood at another, the chain at her neck taut.

 _R2 is in here,_ she told him and despite the cuffs on his wrists, he managed a fist pump, nudging Han in the waist.

"Maybe my eyes are getting better," Han said, thinking mistakenly that Luke was trying to talk to him. Luke looked at him. Han was shivering, and squinting ahead, not even seeming to notice the large yacht or the second skiff that sailed alongside them.

"You can't see?" Luke asked.

"I see a large light blur."

Luke would have liked to turn to Lando, who stood behind him, and ask, _did you know about this? He's mostly blind!_ There wasn't anything they could do about it now, though. At least Han thought his vision was improving, so maybe this was a temporary effect of being kept in hibernation for too many months.

Luke tried to gauge how much time had passed since Han was freed and he fought the rancor. The stim shot would wear off soon.

"There's nothing to see," he assured Han, and apologized to the desert for his betrayal. Actually, there was: the rolling dunes of rippled sand, colored a golden yellow, stretching on endlessly. The farmed desert area was flat; the sand compact. Here it was soft-looking, and silty. The Sea was beautiful. "I was born here, you know."

"You're gonna die here, you know," Han retorted.

Chewie barked a laugh. "In a thousand years."

Luke looked at Han, surprised. Then he remembered that Han had absolutely no idea of anything- _anything._ The last time Han saw Luke was on Hoth. It seemed so long ago Luke couldn't bring back the memory of cold. He was just recovered from a wampa attack, and Han had saved him. Yes, he'd dropped coords in Luke's X-Wing to help him find Dagobah, but he didn't know if Luke had gone. He didn't know Luke was a Jedi.

Luke swiveled his head around, trying to see things as Han did. First he squinted his eyes until he could make out nothing but the suns's light. Then he took in their situation. Their hands were bound behind them, they stood in the thick of a dozen guards, and they had no weapons. From Han's point of view, it probably _did_ look like a pretty dour situation.

He edged closer to Han, and murmured quietly so that no guard would hear, "Just stick close to Chewie and Lando. I've taken care of everything."

"Oh," Han said skeptically. "Great."

Luke smiled. R2 was making his way to the top of the yacht. He could hear the little droid beeping at others to get out of his way. "It's true, Han. All this is for me. Jabba thinks I'm a Jedi."

"And you think so too?"

Luke laughed lightly. "What has Chewie told you?"

"The same," Han begrudged. "Just seems... I don't know. Like a lot."

"It is a lot. We'll fill you in later."

"Sure. We got a thousand years."

Chewie laughed again.

Jabba had C-3PO offer the prisoners a chance to beg for mercy. Han, a veteran of Jabba's idea of entertainment, played along, his voice sounding pretty strong, as did Chewie, who snarled some curses. Luke used the time to be sure R2 was in place, and to nod at Lando to be ready.

Then he was ready to give Jabba a show.

A weequay undid his cuffs, which was considerate on Jabba's part - might as well be digested for a thousand years with your hands free- and also quite helpful for Luke. The weequay shoved him, and Luke stepped out on a plank.

The Sarlacc had evidently felt the vibrations in the sand and had emerged from the Pit of Carkoon. Luke peered down at it, and he wondered if Leia was able to see the creature from her own vantage point above the yacht.

A Sarlacc was a gigantic being, made mostly up of nimble, worm-like appendages. Its brain? mouth? Luke guessed, was housed in a large- Luke didn't know; the creature was so alien- pod, he would say, which opened and closed. Sand on the edges of the Pit eroded and slid in around the moving tentacles as the creature waved them in lazy eagerness.

 _Luke,_ Leia called, unable to hide her worry.

He saluted her, and stepped a few paces forward. The weequay pushed at his back with his staff but didn't follow him out on the plank, which bounced and swayed over the pit.

Luke raised his knee high, and bounced his two feet on the plank, sending him straight up rather than out. He spun in mid-air, grabbing the plank with his hands to launch him in the air again. He heard R2 call with a whistle. He had ejected Luke's lightsaber and it was hurtling through the air towards him.

Things slowed. The Force glimmered. From high in the air, and Luke descended back to the skiff like a deity. He caught his lightsaber, relishing the feel of it in his hand, better than his father's, because Luke had built this one himself. He activated it. The blade was green.

Chewie rumbled a descriptive commentary to Han, who responded with a very confused, "What?"

Everything was Luke's: he heard the music stop. Jabba roared, and Leia gasped a cheer. The guards behind him all shouted, most of them in confusion. He saw tentacles waving, bodies falling beside him, into the pit, Lando surging forward to push Han down, Chewie wiggling out of the way of fire. He smelled the breath of the sarlacc, salty and acidic; felt the dry air caress his cheek as he moved.

Luke landed, and flipped, his feet back securely on the skiff and he cut and slashed. It was going well, he was making good progress, but now Jabba's guards on the yacht were starting to react. Cannon ports were opening, the first shots were raining around them. Luke lost time getting to Chewie and Han- "turn around, Han"- and freeing their hands from the cuffs. Someone flew in a jet pack and landed squarely in front of Luke, almost catching him by surprise, his blaster already aimed.

Luke slashed the tip of the blaster with his sword just in time.

The battle continued, for it was a battle. Luke could feel Leia taking control of her story, exerting energy and will. _I'm the sidekick,_ he reminded himself. _I need to get her off that yacht._

She would have to wait- Chewie was down, hurt; Lando was overboard, Han was- what the hells was Han doing anyway? Luke had a spot of trouble- the one that had almost shot his face off, a worthy opponent- had managed to encase Luke's torso in a rope.

Han was on his feet, swinging a staff, demanding at Chewie, "Where?"

Luke managed to free himself, somehow with Han's completely accidental help; he hoped Chewie saw it so he could tell him how later- and he stood, deflecting bolt after bolt back toward the yacht. He tested hitting the cannons, and the bolts bounced off the metal. When they hit the wood they burned a small hole, so Luke concentrated on hitting the cannon operators, thinking all the while how he needed to pull Lando out of the Sarlacc.

Guards jumped from the yacht to the second skiff, and now Han was upside down, dangling from the edge of the skiff.

 _Damn it, Han. I told you to stay down!_ How many guards were here anyway? Luke was growing impatient. Time to get Leia, and get the hells out of here.

But Chewie had Han by the feet and they both were calling out suggestions to Lando.

Luke moved. He called on the Force and leaped the great distance between the two skiffs. One guard, thinking he had overestimated the distance, tried to imitate Luke and missed by a long shot, falling with a scream into the Pit below.

Luke continued on to the yacht, clambering to the deck. It was roomier up here, and he had a lot more room to maneuver, but he was distracted.

This is why no attachments, Luke thought.

He could hear Leia grunting with effort, chanting to herself _die, die;_ Han giving a shout of alarm and Chewie's reassuring answer, _I got you._ Lando, though, sounded terrified. _I thought you were blind!_

Luke danced his saber over nearer to the edge, where he could check on the others. Han was still upside down, his bloodstripe pants cutting a vivid stark line below the skiff. He held a blaster- _he's going to kill Lando_ -

A lucky shot hit his fake hand. Luke reacted with a yelp, though it couldn't hurt. It was just habit. The bolt had melted the faux skin covering, but since his fingers still gripped the hilt, he figured no other damage had occurred. He made a mental note to himself to start training with his other hand.

And Leia emerged, blinking in the sunshine, a length of chain dangling off her neck. _Where's Jabba?_ he thought at her, but she barked at him, _What do you need?_

"Get the gun!" he shouted.

"No, higher- a little higher!" Lando was squealing in terror.

"Point it at the deck!" he yelled to Leia again.

Han was lying again, "It's alright- I can see a lot better now _."_

Luke ran to a rope, and gestured for Leia to join him. As she got in position, gripping him tightly, he heard her voice in his ear. "What are you wearing?"

Luke kicked the gun, jamming the trigger guard, and percussive bolts pierced the deck's flooring, streaming into the party room, below to the kitchen and slave pens, then to the last level of engineering. There was a quiet, powerful boom. The blast boosted the rope Luke and Leia were holding and they sailed off the yacht.

They swung, the swashbuckling sidekick and the Princess knight. "What are _you_ wearing?" he retorted.

Luke could see 3PO's feet sticking upside down out of the sand. Chewie was sitting, his fingers separating the fur around his leg wound. Lando knelt beside him, as did Han, both going through satchels.

Han said again, "Where?"

Luke and Leia landed, the momentum of the swing making their feet run until they got control of their own balance.

The yacht exploded in a satisfying fireball.

"Kreth," Lando swore, and hastened to the controls.

"Don't forget the droids," Luke said.

"Is that one of the suns?" Han said.

"You said you could see!" Lando shouted at him, his voice high. "It's Jabba blowing up. Jabba and his yacht! What the fuck! You could have shot me!"

"He needs more time to think about it," Chewie said snidely.

Leia smiled, soft and happy. She pulled at the hem of Han's shirt. "Come on, scoundrel. Out of the sun. Out of those cold clothes."

But he grabbed her, hugging at her shoulders, then his hands touched all over her bare shoulders, roaming back and forth, from skin to metal. "What did you do, Leia?" he said. He pulled her tighter into a hug, elbows around her neck so tight that her chin rested, trapped, on his shoulder, and his face was buried in her neck.

"Sweetheart, Leia. What you did. What you did, Leia." Han kept repeating it the same phrase over and over in a heartbreaking whisper, his body shaking. "Gods fuck it, I love you. I love you, Leia." He didn't let go, and Luke thought he might be crying.


	34. Departures

They huddled together under a tarp Lando had the foresight to pack. Luke didn't know if it was the hypnotic motion of the skiff, or its two shadows, racing ahead and slightly to port, but he felt strange, like he was caught in a time of in-between.

Tiredly, Luke kept an eye on the horizon, where distance became time. He saw himself, the many ways, the many parts of him.

A Princess, delivering a plea, swathed in yards of white.

A young man, embracing a woman in blue.

A skeleton breaking apart under a smuggler's hands.

Ben, turning away from the baby in the woman's arms, lonely and broken.

An adolescent, moving sullenly among condensers of a moisture farm.

A young man in black, taking leave.

It was like being the little yellow sun, promising to watch over her planet, creating the second sun which would ultimately destroy it. And she loved them both.

Luke felt a profound gratitude for Tatooine. To show him that life was fleeting, temporary, even that which lasted millennia.

He squinted toward the foreground, and sat a little straighter.

It had to be because of the heat. And the exhaustion. And the lack of drinking water.

Luke saw a mirage: off in the distance, a young Anakin Skywalker was disembarking from a speeder, the woman in blue already standing on the sand and shielding her eyes with her hand.

It wasn't clear- what he saw danced and shimmered, broken by heat waves, and he got up and moved to the bow.

It was interesting, because mirages, in his lifetime of desert experience, usually didn't move. Anakin crossed in front of the speeder and joined the woman at her side.

Luke's gaze moved between the mirage and his fellow passengers gathered under the shade of tarp. R2, at the helm with C-3PO, didn't beep to alert Luke there was anything to see, or that they were near their destination, and he would. He was such a reliable droid. C-3PO, less efficient, was also silent.

Anakin hadn't pulled up to anything. The mirage didn't feature the Lars farm of thirty years ago, or whenever Luke's grandmother had died. The speeder was just out in the open, empty desert.

Chewie and Lando were sitting back to back, supporting each other, chins nodding on their chests, dozing.

Anakin and the woman were embracing.

 _That's my mother,_ Luke thought. He'd suspected it before, the first time he saw the Force vision, but now he was certain. He watched her with interest. She left his father's embrace and started walking, in the direction of the skiff. Anakin's arms dropped to his side and he merely watched.

Luke's eyes flitted to R2 again, and then to Leia. She was leaning back on her palms, legs extended and crossed at the ankles. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted upward, at the tarp, soaking up some shade. Han's head rested on her thigh.

Luke thought about contacting her through the Force. _Leia, wake up. Do you see-_ To try and see if he could get her to add to what she'd accomplished, unknowingly, in the Force so far.

But if it was a mirage, then it was only his to see...

His mirage kept moving, growing closer. He could see the variable tones in his mother's blue robes, as if water had been used to wash the color away. His father remained far away, blurry and small.

What was this? Luke thought back. Earlier in his experiences with the Force, he'd been with non-Force users. Owen and Beru at the table, Han in the cantina. But he'd been brought then by the Force, in the guise of Ben usually, to interact with them. This was different; this wasn't possible. Well, neither was drinking blue milk with a Force-infused aunt when he was really on a tauntaun's back, he argued with himself, but somehow it was possible. He' been guided.

Those locations, the circumstances, the time- they were all familiar, known to him. His mother wasn't. The other time he'd seen her, just the once, he was being told something, given a lesson he had to work out.

This felt different. Nothing whispered to him, _pay attention_.

Was he just more powerful? Experiencing the Force in new ways? He didn't need lessons anymore, he just needed to understand?

She had brown eyes. Even, white teeth, which she showed in a gentle smile. _What do you want,_ he thought at her.

He warned himself to be careful. Already once he'd been enraptured by the vision of a princess in a holomessage, and here he was again entranced by an image of someone who awakened something in him, something vague yet filled with longing.

She boarded the skiff. Moments ago she was a shimmering vision, unfocused, unclear, and she had crossed the desert on foot like a breeze.

She looked first at him, then Leia, her expression tentative, and knelt by Han's side.

"Leave him alone," Luke said. Then, because she might be his mother, he added, "Please."

"I will take care of him," his mother said.

"We just got him back," Luke told her. "Leia will."

"Look at her," his mother said.

Luke did. What did she want him to see? Right now she reminded him of the holo that greeted Wedge every time he opened his locker. An image of a scantily clad woman, beautiful and objectified.

The length of broken chain that had tethered her to Jabba curved around her breast and dangled over the deck, swaying slightly with the skiff's motion.

There was nothing wrong with what Luke saw. He saw Leia, through and through, always. " _You_ look," he told her. "You're not being fair. Do you know what we've been through-"

"This is a dangerous time for you," she said.

Luke's head jolted forward. "Ben?" he exclaimed and shook his head to clear it of the voice. "That's not fair!" he said again angrily. He'd been successful at thwarting all of Ben's attempts at contact this long. He didn't want to hear from him; he knew whatever explanation was offered couldn't be trusted, that it was just Ben trying to get him to do Ben's will. And Yoda's, what they said the Force desired. To use his mother... It was a cheap shot.

"I don't care what hindsight you have," he told- whoever it was. "We chose," he deliberately emphasized the words. "And nothing you can say will make us change our mind. You can't tell us what-"

He broke off, and he felt Ben disappear, though his mother still knelt by Han. _His mother,_ he realized. Tending to Han. The Force had never held much for Han nor he for it, and yet- _there's no mystical energy field controls my destiny-_

Han had sounded like such a defiant, belligerent jerk when he'd said that, observing Luke's first lessons with the lightsaber. The Force created life and it owed its existence to his mother and Han as much as it owed Luke, yet both remained outside of the Force.

It was funny now- Luke could see himself judge Han for his denial of the Force- he'd felt a pity for him, actually. Such had been his desires. But in essence, it took Luke three years to reach the same conclusion. Maybe that's why it was Force Han at the cantina with the brochures for Luke to decide on.

Two things were going on right now. Ben was here, jumping on a moment to get to Luke, and the Force was asking for help.

"What happened to you?" Luke said. It was one question, directed at two: his mother and the Force.

The only being who knew anything about his mother was Darth Vader, and Luke didn't foresee that conversation was ever likely to happen.

 _Son, learn the power of the dark side and rule the galaxy by my side._

 _I'll think about it, Father. First what can you tell me about Mother?_

He imagined Vader chopping off his other hand. Anakin was dead to Vader and that meant his mother was dead too, more than dead. She couldn't be spoken of without sparking his rage and blame.

Vader wouldn't allow himself to think of her, and the Force sort of… glossed over her. Like it did Han. She needn't be mentioned. She was… not an oversight… Luke fought to grasp what he sensed. Not a mistake. A misdirection. One of the many possible paths a being could venture down and the Force hadn't considered it.

She chose death? Luke felt his brows raise. A young woman, heavy with child, his name ready on her lips, longing for family, and she decided to die.

She'd seen Anakin die, and she saw Vader rise. _That's why,_ Luke inhaled sharply. For some reason, his father had already embraced the dark side. Luke had assumed her death was another push toward it, as Anakin's mother's had been.

She wouldn't allow her love, grown dark and terrible, to have her, so she took herself away from him, so that he might never destroy her, and she was willing to take her son away, too.

 _She was going to let me die_ , Luke thought.

But he refused to let it weigh him down at the moment. Later, maybe. Right now, this was about her, and Han, and the Force. _You have a power, too,_ he realized. _And_ _so_ _does Han. You have the ability, as much as I have really, to influence-_

Typically, words failed him. Not the future, though that certainly was the outcome. Not the Force- well, yes, because everything contained the Force but also no, because they didn't have it- They had the power to influence- direction, the way a life could go. Anyone's life. A Wookiee, or a Princess. A Jedi. It wasn't the Force that made these stories. It was the beings who lived them. The Force was merely the narrator.

Ben was gone but his mother was still here, and far away Anakin waited for her by the speeder. So he knew, too.

"You don't have to worry," he told her. "I already know." He moved his eyes from her back to his father. "You can go back. I wish you could stay. But I know you can't." He wanted to know so much about her- not just her name, or how she met his father. Who she was, how Anakin came to love her. But it would have to wait until the Force was repaired.

He made his way over to Leia and sat beside her, squeezing between her and Chewie. She turned her head toward him to let him know she sensed him next to her, but didn't open her eyes.

"I'm going to comm Mrs. Darklighter," he told her. "None of us have eaten, had anything to drink, slept in a day. You don't mess with the desert."

"Mm?" Han stirred drowsily.

Leia supported herself on one hand and used the other to brush hair off his brow. "Ssh," she said.

"Mm," he said.

"Wait, maybe," Leia told Luke sleepily, eyes still closed, as if she could nap and talk at the same time. "'Til you change, and I get out of this," she grabbed at the chain dangling from her neck collar and missed, and Luke felt if it wasn't heat exhaustion than it was a kind of shock.

"I don't really need to change. I'm in regular clothes," Luke told her.

"She's going to freak," Leia continued dreamily. "A big wooden skiff. You look like Vader."

Luke blinked at her in surprise. "What?"

Han said, "Wassat? Vader?"

"Luke's all in black," Leia said a little more clearly. "He's dressed like Vader."

"No I'm not," Luke protested.

"Lemme see." Han made no move except to lift his forearm. He patted at the air, eyes closed, trying to find Luke.

"You can't see," Luke reminded him, but he smiled, and lowered his head. He felt Han pat him all over his hair.

"No," Han told Leia. "Not Vader."

"Thanks, Han," Luke said.

"What were you going for, anyway, Luke?" Leia said. "Did you think Jabba would associate you with Vader?"

"No," Luke answered defensively. "I was in a used surplus store. There wasn't a lot of choice. I was going for self-assured, and serene." _And power,_ he realized. _I was trying to show power, like Vader does._

 _Look at me, Mother. Do I remind you of him?_ He withdrew into himself, a little disturbed Leia saw him that transparently while he had been oblivious to the connection. And should he be disturbed still, that he saw nothing wrong in it?

"I need to get out of this," Leia said again, and she lifted a bare thigh. Han's head rolled with her motion but he seemed to have fallen asleep. Leia gazed into his face. "I want to protect her from it, somehow," she told Luke.

He nodded. The Darklighters had been good neighbors. Helpful and friendly. They had to know there was more to Luke's return than he told them, which was nothing, but he was grateful they had never pressed Luke or Leia for information. They seemed happy to treat Luke and Leia as a married couple, and neither did anything to dissuade them of the notion.

They each carried memories of loss for each other. Luke of Biggs, their son, and they of his aunt and uncle. Luke and Leia had enjoyed a simple friendship with them. There was no mention of Alderaan, of Vader, of Jabba.

He liked being their neighbor, and he suspected they enjoyed the relationship as well. He enjoyed their attention, their care and interest.

It went both ways. The opportunity to be with someone they'd known as a child, returned as a young adult; to help them set up a home, teach them; it must have provided some closure they didn't know they needed. And for Luke, who felt his life so crazy: _yeah, she's a Princess without a planet. We plan on rescuing a smuggler who was tortured by my father. He's how I lost my hand, by the way._ When he farmed, side by side with the Darklighters, life was simple. Sane, and calm. Real.

Luke offered Leia a forgiving smile. "What are they going to think when Han becomes part of our household?" he teased. "They're going to think something's up with our marriage."

She managed a smile with hooded eyes and said, "Hmm. Guess we'll have some kinks."

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Storm season was coming. Tatooine's wobbly ellipse passed too close to the red sun this time of year, and it wreaked havoc on the desert. It was a busy time for moisture farmers, who needed to bottle the harvest and cover the condensers. The season was predictable, but not the storms. No one could say where they would originate or how long they would last.

Right now, the air made a human's eyes feel swollen and their temples throbbed. The breeze was constant, and brisk; sand needled at one's face and hands constantly.

Luke was restless. A pressure was building up in him. He'd sent Lando on errands, but stayed close to the farm with Leia, Chewie and Han. Lando had brought the two droids to the ships in the canyon for sentry duty, and traveled to Mos Eisley to get Leia's speeder out of long term docking. They told him to do whatever he wished with the skiff, and he'd sold it to some jawas.

How timeless the desert was, Luke thought. He was here for the story of the Skywalkers- _and the Lars, Force,_ he remonstrated, _don't forget the Lars-_ but for the Force too, the lives that created it, the lives it bound itself to.

Moving from one condenser to the next on the Darklighter farm, Luke happened to glance up and saw Adolescent Luke, moving through the fields of the Lars farm, a few condensers away from Uncle Owen. _Be careful now_ , Luke wanted to warn his past self, for he knew exactly what would happen.

There was a moment in the harvest, if you weren't careful, and the water sloshed, and then it was gone- just gone. There was no feeling of wetness as the drops slid past your fingers. The sand never dimpled because the water never had the chance to touch it. The suns sucked it away.

Luke appreciated the Force for this, the way history filled him. There was no emotion associated with what he saw, just knowledge of what used to be and what would. _How I've grown_ , he thought of himself, for he barely caused the water to ripple now; familiar with that sinking horror, Adolescent Luke looking over his shoulder- _did Owen see me spill-_ it never mattered though. Owen knew every drop.

"Carelessness costs credits," Owen would yell, and Luke, who knew he deserved the scolding, would mutter sullenly under his breath, "say that three times fast."

After they stowed the last of the harvest in the shed, Luke accepted a glass of blue milk in the Darklighter kitchen, knowing it might be the last time he saw them. If there was a break in the storms, Mr. D would have no time to socialize; he'd have to inspect and repair and make ready.

"I'm sorry for all the alarm we must have caused," Luke apologized.

"Oh, Luke," Mr. Darklighter sighed and raised his glass. "Alarm," he repeated, testing whether it was the right word.

"You and Mrs. D probably wished I'd been a more normal neighbor," Luke continued. "Not dashing off into the canyons all the time."

Mr. D threw Luke a sharp glance. "You think I didn't know you and Biggs were in the canyons?" Luke laughed, and Mr. D sobered. "Ever since that day those troopers came to your homestead, Luke... There's been no such thing as normal. Ever again."

Luke lowered the glass from his lips. "I know, sir. Or it's a normal you didn't want."

Mr. Darklighter opened his mouth, then closed it to regard Luke a moment. He seemed to have decided on something, for he opened his mouth again and spoke. "Do you know what I think, every time a visitor comes, Luke? We don't get visitors often, so maybe that's why, but every time the bell rings and I see a visitor, I think 'someone's going to die.' That's my first thought. Not 'I wonder who it is'. 'Someone's going to die'. And I hate it. I hate feeling nervous when I see the shadows approach. I hate having to think where my gun is, just in case."

Luke nodded. He understood exactly what Mr. Darklighter meant. His first thought, when the skiff pulled up to the Lars farm was _there's no smoke today._ "Did you think that about me and Leia?"

Mr. Darklighter's eyes swept over the desert. He nodded. "I did about your friend." He grunted in memory. "Definitely made sure I had my gun."

Luke smiled.

"Still might be your friend that dies."

"He's pretty sick," Luke agreed. "But at least we have a chance to take care of him, right? Instead of outright being killed."

"Right." Both men fell silent for a time. Luke had something to say, but he couldn't find a way to broach it.

"I'm also thinking," Mr. Darklighter said, "that I hate this conversation." Luke smiled faintly. "About death. Friends dying. Our families, Luke," Mr. Darklighter made sure to hold Luke's eyes, "we've had our share of loss. And I'm awfully sorry for it, and I don't want you to have any more. You're young, Luke. You should be starting out, thinking bright."

"Biggs, too," Luke said, for that's who Mr. Darklighter meant. "I know it's not enough, but- I think of Biggs a lot. I tell stories all the time. Just ask my wing man," he joked gently. "I know you won't see him have the life you wanted for him. But," Luke took a big breath, finding it difficult to express himself, "but he was a friend. He gave me..." Luke shrugged. "Friendship. It's stayed with me. So, in a way, he lives on." He shook his head, hating how pathetic and patronizing he sounded. "I'm sorry. I know that's nothing like-"

"No, it's fine," Mr. Darklighter said. He looked moved. Not comforted, which was what Luke was trying to do, but affected, and Luke thought maybe that was good enough. "It's good to know. Nice to hear. Thank you."

"I may not have said it well in the letter I wrote you. Even when I'm away," Luke persisted, finding an opening, "Biggs is still along." Mr. Darklighter nodded. "Sir," Luke waited a few heart beats, "Leia and I will be leaving again." He swallowed, finding it difficult to say. "I'm not sure we'll be back."

The desert didn't care, Luke thought, as he looked down at the sand. The desert would continue, while life came and went, until the red sun swallowed the desert and Tatooine became just a moment in history.

Mr. Darklighter wasn't surprised either. "I expected that," he said. "The letter you sent- you both were pilots. What you always wanted to be. So when you came back, and farmed only one condenser..."

Luke laughed. "I guess that is kind of ridiculous."

Mr. Darklighter chuckled.

"I'm not sure what to do about the farm," Luke said.

"Well, that's up to you. It's good land."

"Would you like it?" Luke asked, thinking 'good land' was a very relative phrase.

"No, no," Mr. Darklighter was startled. "Don't give it away. Sell it. Or keep it. Mine's big enough, I think." He looked at the adobe walls of his kitchen. "Don't give it away."

"I guess not. It'd piss Uncle Owen off."

Mr. Darklighter's laughed genuinely, the first time Luke heard it since he returned. It contained affection, and memory, and the bittersweet recognition that life used to be different.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They watched him in shifts, everyone in their own way. Luke liked Lando's method best. Lando dealt Han a hand of sabacc and played it for him against himself, talking Han through it. "You have a minus thirteen. I'm going to discard the knave and take three. You good with that?" and Han would answer "yeah" even though the effort might cause him to vomit.

Luke pulled aside the Cut Lace curtain and peered inside. Leia had made it. It was the constellation of the Three Goddesses looking over the lake at Aldera. At the bottom corner was a tower, and Leia had pointed out a cut in the fabric. She had told Luke it was a window, and that little Leilei was behind it, looking out.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked Lando.

"Not at all," Lando replied smoothly. "I'll deal you in, if you like." He jerked his head toward the figure on the pallet. "He's not too much fun right now."

Han was mostly on his stomach, one arm trapped between his belly and the mattress. The other arm was bent at the elbow, fingers dangling lightly off the edge of the pallet. His hair was very rumpled, mouth open a little. His back rose and fell evenly. It was the first in three days Luke saw he was truly resting.

Luke smiled fondly. "He's actually sleeping?" he said in a hushed voice.

"The patient is sedated," the med droid intoned, and Luke started. He hadn't noticed it in the corner of the room.

"I take it there's not much sickness on Tatooine," Lando said, dealing cards. "This one's not good for much."

Luke picked up his hand. "Heat stroke and exhaustion, mainly. Injuries. It's not its fault. Viruses and bacteria don't flourish here. There's outbreaks in the ports sometimes, but it dies off really fast. Too hot."

"True." Lando tapped the deck for Luke to draw. "I figured as much."

Luke added, "Cut it some slack. No sentient's been through carbon freeze, right?"

Lando's chin jerked towards Han. "He's exhausted. Body wouldn't quit. Not going to heal like that."

"Yeah." Luke had never seen sick like this. He was familiar with injuries- wounds, and blood. There was the bacta tank, or bandages. Weakness, sure. Pain was a given, but so were painkillers. He'd gone that route himself a few times. You either died, or you recovered. And it was decided quickly- you knew within a day or two which way it would go. And in between you were out of it.

But he'd never known anything to be this unceasing, this relentless. Something had Han and it would not let go. He complained of his skin crawling, and they couldn't touch him. Still so cold, even with his temperature so high. The med droid was convinced the disorientation and dizziness was due to dehydration and heat stroke, but after a few days had to send out for fever reducer and anticonvulsants. He didn't sleep, but lapsed in and out of awareness, and he always asked, "how long?", coming to in a panic, thinking he was still in the carbonite.

Lando was arranging his cards. "Where's Leia?"

"She's sleeping, too. Finally."

"Yeah. 'Bout time. She's taking this hard. Personally."

Luke pursed his lips, considering his cards and Lando's words. "Not really. She's frightened is all." _She lost so much,_ he wanted to say. _She's afraid she'll break i_ _f_ _she loses one more thing._ He didn't think it was really Lando's business.

"Leia should know he's a tough bastard."

"You know she's a princess, don't you?" Luke had heard Lando use her title only once, in the IMF, when he'd left with Chewie to return to Bespin. "You keep calling her Leia."

"Shouldn't I? You do."

"But I'm Luke," he said with a small smile. "It took Han ages before he called her Leia."

"He called her Princess?"

"Well, not-" Luke stopped himself. "Sometimes."

"Anyway, it's how she introduced herself. I guess Han needed to see what he was flying her into, so they held back on some important details."

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" Luke added up his hand. If he discarded the nine and the two, he stood at eleven.

Lando snorted. "He was on his last ounce of fuel. I didn't know until Lord Vader said it. I didn't know if Han did, until he said it."

"Why wouldn't Han know?"

"How would I know?" Lando threw up his hand in exasperation and Luke caught a glimpse of an eight and ten. Lando was going for a straight. Luke kept the nine. "He was playing things pretty close. Hells, I didn't know she loved him 'til she said it."

Luke nodded.

"Did you?"

Luke smiled. "I wasn't with them for a while. Before that, I'd have said... I knew what she didn't."

"Huh. Interesting. You talk in a haze, you know that?"

Luke laughed, and over on the pallet, Han rolled over. The two men froze, waiting to see if he would wake. When he resumed sleep with a snore, they went back to playing cards.

"Vader got there first," Lando spoke with regret. "He got there first. He asked me for the beings aboard a ship he expected to call for port, and he didn't mention a princess, or rebels, though that's what I assumed, and he didn't name the ship. He didn't say it was for the security of the Empire. Instead he threatened the city."

Luke nodded, just listening.

"He expected just Han and Chewbacca," Lando continued. "He was- pleased, I'd say, to get the Princess."

Luke nodded again. There was nothing to say. "Let's shift the deck," he suggested. They didn't have a reshuffler, so it involved being dealt a brand new hand.

"It didn't sit right, giving up a ship sight unseen to Vader, you know," Lando shuffled the deck. "But it was one ship or the whole city. What's your move?"

"I liked my old hand better."

"That's sabacc. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What's your status with the Rebellion?"

"Oh." Luke took a large inhale. "Probably not good," he joked lamely. "I was a flight squadron commander. They know I left to rendezvous, but I never showed up. I could be missing. Or absent." He laughed ironically. "Depends who debriefs me."

"You're going back?"

Luke nodded, and took a card. "Yeah. Still got a war to fight."

"Leia says she's missing in action, presumed dead," Lando provided.

"It's likely," Luke allowed. "We all were at the Battle of Hoth. She was in the command center. The Empire managed to pierce through our defenses. She missed the transport and got off in the _Falcon._ So she's not accounted for."

"She ranks high?"

Luke nodded. "High Council. Been involved with the Rebellion..." Luke thought about her father, "for years. Inherited it, almost."

Lando fell to looking at his cards, his face revealing nothing, and Luke suddenly got suspicious. "Why," he said with narrowed eyes. "You're not cooking up something, are you?"

Lando's eyes got wide and innocent. "Me? No, no. Not at all."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"3PO, I want to run something by you," Luke leaned against the courtyard wall, speaking quietly into a comm unit held close to his mouth.

"Of course, Master Luke. I am happy to be of assistance." The droid wasn't too happy to be left on the _Falcon_ with just R2, but it was certainly much more peaceful in the home without him. Before exiling him to the canyons, Luke had to bar him from discussing Han's recovery with anyone. 3PO told Chewie that Captain Solo was unlikely to recover from the trauma of being buried alive, and had subsequently been run out the room, being chased by an angry, limping Wookiee who should be lying in bed with his hurt leg propped up.

Then, after discussion with the Visiting Med Droid, who wasn't as effective as Luke or Leia had hoped, he thoughtlessly mentioned to Leia that humans suffering such a high fever for a prolonged time would be left brain damaged. Leia responded by squirting bacta gel into his photoreceptors and yelling at him to shut up, which a distressed 3PO found out of character.

Luke began, "Someone once said, 'this is a dangerous time for you.' I'm not going to tell you who said it, or who heard it, but I want your take on it."

"Certainly, sir. Language is my specialty, after all." C-3PO was silent a moment as he processed information. "Well, sir. The term 'danger' of course indicates to whomever the phrase was directed was not safe. That is fairly self-explanatory, I should think." Luke pictured him cocking his head to the side. "Perhaps exposed, or vulnerable. My interpretation is that the danger is probably not physical. It might only be a perceived threat, or a condition that may eventually cause physical harm. And the use of 'time' suggests that the situation could be temporary."

3PO stopped a moment. "It seems to me, if the listener, or listeners, took action or even if they did not, the situation of danger might pass on its own. Then," he continued, "is the use of 'you'. In Basic, which I find a terribly flawed language-"

"Tell me your opinion of Basic later."

"It has a fascinating history, Master Luke. One of the rare manufactured languages-"

"-The use of 'you'?" Luke reminded the droid.

"Yes, sir. The use of 'you' in Basic is unclear. It is both singular and plural. I am afraid I am unable to tell you if there was only one listener, or several. It is pointless to interpret it."

"So it could mean, you as in one person, or many: all of you."

"Quite correct, sir."

Luke nodded thoughtfully to himself. "Thanks."

"Might I venture a guess, sir, as to who said it and to whom?"

"Sure, go ahead." Luke prepared himself to be entertained, and the droid did not disappoint.

"It falls completely in line with what I knew of the droid master at Jabba's palace. That unit routinely ordered the disassembling of machines!"

"That would be a dangerous time, alright," Luke smiled. "How's the _Falcon_? Got any visitors?"

"No, sir. Nothing to report. May I inquire about Captain Solo?"

"He's doing okay."

"That is good news, sir. Though I must say, based on his-"

"The VMD got it figured out finally. Once Lando explained about the freezing process. It's because the carbonite is kept under pressure. Some kind of embolism. He needs a decompress, but that'll have to be elsewhere."

"I could have told you this, Master Luke. I was at Cloud City and saw it happen. If I were to be with-"

"Need someone at the Falcon, 3PO, but thanks. I gotta go. Skywalker out."

Luke was grimly satisfied with C-3PO's interpretation. It fell in line with everything he'd been feeling and learning.

There was no way 3PO could guess- the only witness other than Luke was Yoda. It was Ben's warning, uttered to Luke on Dagobah before he departed.

"But I feel the Force," Luke had said pleadingly.

"But you cannot control it," Obi Wan rejoined.

Well, Luke could now, better than Ben even, because he had a different relationship with the Force. He could even tell Master Yoda why the Jedi had to fall.

Ben hadn't known that while he spoke his warning, the Force spoke too. Ben hadn't even felt it. Not the part that beings tapped into; the free part, the larger part. Again, it wasn't something Luke felt a word could adequately express. The collective Force, uttered to the all of Luke. What he was, who he had. His time.

Adolescent Luke had been unable to avoid it. His mother couldn't either. But _you_. The little family that he was: Luke, Han and Leia. _It is a dangerous time for you._ Their future, the three of them.

The Jedi in black, who straddled the point between good and evil.

The Princess who shed perceptions, shifting from a world of duty and intellect to love and instinct. _Look at her,_ his mother had said, but wasn't it obvious? Little by little she peeled off the layers of white that were pressed so thickly on her, until she stood in the beauty of her own flesh.

No, Leia was no victim. She was not exposed, all creamy skin in strips of metal. She was revealed.

The only danger to her was Han. If somehow she lost him, and she didn't keep what he had given her that slow trip to Bespin. She had relearned to accept love and to give it, after it was so cruelly taken from her.

And lastly, a smuggler stuck in time, who made things possible. _He gives the rides._ Isn't that what he told Leia?

Luke was ready. He felt prepared. He could talk to Ben again, and it wouldn't sting. He knew who he was, and what he had to do. It was very much open to question whether he could indeed achieve it, but that part didn't bother him.

He had considered the desert, while riding on the skiff. Should it look different, feel different, now that Jabba was removed from it?

And he's smiled, because just as the Force was the problem it gave him the solution. The answer was yes, but of course it was also no.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The three sat in a similar pose, their backs against the walls, knees drawn up to their chests.

Han was sleepy, rumpled. His lower lip pouted as he blinked to try and bring focus to the world.

Across from him, next to Luke, Leia finished her explanation.

She'd spoken too fast, Luke thought. She was excited, forecasting ahead. She was so glad to move from deathly ill Han that she went all the way to well Han, forgetting recovery in between.

He was still sick. Not frighteningly so, but he wasn't over it. He still needed treatment. But he was stronger. Still pale. He'd gone from moaning about his skin crawling to making the med droid remove the drip so he didn't have to piss every twenty minutes to insisting its service be dismissed, period.

Han drew the sheet over his knees and chest and gathered his shoulders. "I don't get it," he said, his confusion obvious. "...you're leaving?"

Strange, Luke thought, how things tended to come full circle. It used to be Leia who fretted about Han's leaving. But it was understandable; it was the only control Han felt he had over his life. Drift here, go there. He didn't let anything - mystical energy field or being- influence where he went and he didn't stay long enough to see what impact he made.

Being put into carbonite- everyone else moving, living, waking day after day and he was left behind- must have been a living nightmare for him. And like the cold, he couldn't quite shake it.

"Yes," Leia answered, cheerfully- and bluntly, to Han- frank. "I've managed to reestablish contact with General Rieekan. I had to go through my history of contacts through C-3PO but I finally got him. It's taken them almost as long as us, but the fleet will be assembling outside of Sullust."

"Ssh," Luke whispered. "Lando."

Leia shook her head. "It's no matter. It's public knowledge."

"Really?" Han said.

"So anyone can join?" Luke asked.

"And they are, I hear," Leia said. "From whole systems to individuals. It's a great opportunity for those who've seen little prospect of – anything. A chance to become something. Make a living."

"Is that smart?" Luke said, and Leia looked at him, surprised. "I mean about the assembling."

"Does seem like a good chance for the Empire to end it all," Han said.

"They're waiting. The second Death Star is still under construction. That's how they plan on ending the civil war, when it's completed. Of course our aim is to not let either of those happen. It's going to be a real battle. They've staked out their corner of space, and we're on the march to attack."

"Well." Luke looked at Han, brows raised expressively.

Leia looked a little worriedly at Luke. "Rieekan offered to send a ship and pick us up."

"When are you going?" Han said.

Leia swallowed, and Luke broke in. "Leia," he said quietly to her. "He's sick. Don't spell it out for him so slow and don't make him add two and two."

"What the hells are you two talking about?" Han demanded.

"I checked with Rieekan," Leia said. "They've got a decompress chamber. They have a lot of Mon Calamari in service now, and they need it for times they leave the water too soon. So I'll leave as soon as you can walk from here to the speeder."

"You mean-" Han was still confused. "What about-"

"I told him the _Falcon_ is here."

"Shit," Han said, bringing his hands to his hairline and rubbing hard.

"What?" Luke asked.

"Volunteers can't use the equipment," Han's voice was muffled from behind his hands. "Looks like I'm going to have to join." He lifted his hands and the first glimpse of the old Han returned, just a tiny crooked grin but a playful gleam in his eye.

Leia laughed and got up to sit next to Han, linking her arm around his elbow and laying her head on his shoulder.

Lando's head poked into the room. "Princess?" He said, and Luke noted how he used her title. "May I have a word with you?"


	35. There Is Another

_Thanks to Guest, for popping in with your uplifting comment last chapter (I needed that). Has anyone seen TLJ yet? Come on in for a dose of Luke of old._

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 _Ah, little X-Wing,_ Luke sighed as he squirmed about in the cockpit, trying to get comfortable. It felt great to be in it again, like wearing his lightsaber. He wouldn't want his ship to get the wrong idea- he loved it, but- _you sure are a shitty way to travel._

It seemed they'd have some sort of adventure no matter how simple their needs: they got taken over by a small sandstorm between the Lars farm and the canyons, and Leia's speeder stalled and they had to walk. She wasn't concerned at all about it, but Lando, Han, Chewie and Luke stood about it for a moment, lamenting the cost and the machine. Finally, because the wind kept pushing sand into their mouths when they talked, they let it go. The jawas would find it eventually. They had equipment to find metal buried under the sand.

"It'll show up in the used lot for sale in a few months," Luke shouted over the storm.

"And I'm sure they'll ask way too much," Leia yelled back.

Han had offered him space on the _Falcon._ He wouldn't be doing the flying, but he was still captain. Luke was tempted to go- he just wanted to stay with the others. Relax, talk. Play holochess. Make sure Han didn't keel over from being sick still. Peace was rare, but it hadn't been won yet.

He was tempted, yes. The jawas would never get over the find of a whole, functioning X-Wing in the canyons, but Luke had a feeling the Alliance would not appreciate its loss, so he declined Han's offer. And since he was alone, he decided to go and have a conversation that should have been had a while ago.

He'd promised Master Yoda he would return. The promise was to finish his training, because they- Yoda and Ben- had told him he hadn't. Well, he felt he didn't need more. Real life turned out to be a better teacher. But he would go, because a good man kept his promise. Uncle Owen had taught him that. He also wanted Yoda to see the Jedi he'd become. And he wanted Yoda to know, if he didn't already, that Luke knew what they'd been hiding from him.

 _Fear leads to the dark side._ Luke humphed at his master's words. It wasn't true. Master Yoda was of the light, but he'd been very afraid.

The others disappeared into the _Falcon,_ anxious to get out of the storm, and Luke lifted R2 into the astromech port with the Force, but on the back side where the others wouldn't see him use it. Not that they'd be able to see anything in this storm, but for some reason he felt private about it. Then he clambered up the ladder and squeezed into his flight suit in the cramped space. While R2 connected with the pulley to stow the ladder and shut the hatch, he warmed the engines and looked out at the _Millennium Falcon._

He brushed grains of sand off his own console that sneaked in when the canopy opened, and strained his eyes towards the cockpit of Han's ship. _Nobody really said goodbye_ , he thought. They were all headed for the same destination, so it was more, "see you there," but now that they were all on separate ships, Luke felt oddly lonely.

The storm obliterated most of his vision, but the ramp was up, lights were on, and there might be movement in the cockpit. Chewie, Luke figured, in the copilot's seat, and probably Lando in the captain's chair.

Lando had announced his intention to join the Alliance. "I'm ready to do some good," he told the group. "Settle down."

"Are you ready to die in battle?" Chewie asked.

"Well, I'm hoping I can avoid that part," Lando admitted to laughter.

Luke grinned as another temptation hit him: to make a ship-to-ship and advise Chewie to switch the board so he was doing the piloting and not Lando. _False pilot_. He chuckled to himself, and bet ten credits Chewie had already done that, and not as a joke.

"Hey, Chewie?" he hailed.

There was an answering roar, and he heard Lando. "What can I do for you, Luke?"

He sounded sincere, so Luke resisted teasing him. "I forgot to tell Leia something."

"Sure, I'll patch it back to the engineering station."

Luke waited a moment, then Leia came on. "Luke?" she sounded breathy, and anxious.

"I just decided," he told her. "I'm going to make a small detour and see an old friend."

"Anyone I know?" Lando chimed in, and Chewie bellowed for Lando to stay out of other's conversations.

"I don't think so," Luke said tolerantly.

"Anyone I know?" Chewie asked.

Luke laughed. "You might. You're old enough. Leia, you still there? Han comfortable?"

Leia's voice was dry, but affectionate. "He's making an inspection. Bumped his knee twice. Are you going to- to see your master?"

"Yeah. I'll meet you back at the fleet in a little while."

"Is that Luke?" he could hear Han in the background. Then closer, "Hey, Luke... Thanks." His voice sounded thick. "Thanks for coming after me."

Luke grinned inside his helmet. "Think nothing of it," he told Han.

"I'm thinking," Han said. "I'm thinking now I owe you one."

Luke's grin turned puzzled. On Hoth, last he remembered, Han tallied two on his side. Now he was minus one, and there'd been only one rescue. It showed how little value Han put on his own life, Luke thought sadly.

There were murmurs on the other end of the comm, Leia ushering Han away. "Hurry back," she returned to Luke. "The Alliance should be assembled by now."

"I will," he promised.

The _Falcon_ warmed up faster. One of Han's adaptations for quick getaways, and Luke waved as the freighter lifted off, though he doubted anyone saw. The ship disappeared into the dark sky of the storm, and Luke gave it time until he was sure it had reached upper atmosphere before he took his Wing up.

R2 beeped.

"Yes, we're going to Dagobah," Luke told his droid.

R2 made a resigned whistle.

"I'm sure it's still wet."

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Landing was an entirely different experience than his first time here. It was calm and smooth. Still in water, but more a deep puddle; there was solid ground he managed to anchor to. Luke shed his flight suit and walked on the mossy damp ground.

He was wearing his 'Vader outfit', as Leia called it. He made one addition: a single black glove covering the damaged skin of his prosthetic hand. He wondered if Yoda would give it the same reception Leia had given it the first time she saw it. She was fine with it now. "I just needed to get used to it. It's a good fit," she decided to him.

It was odd, he reflected. He was so familiar with this part of Dagobah. He'd run all sides of the swamp for months, could see the trails he'd stomped in his mind's eye, but it felt like a different place right now. He knew he was walking in the right direction, but he couldn't say he recognized where he was.

Well, he'd only been here a few months, and again only months had passed since he left. It might be he was seeing the swamp in a different season. Just because he'd been here before didn't mean he knew everything about it.

Surely, Yoda heard the X-Wing land. The bat-like mammals had all flapped away in a fright. But he wasn't out to meet Luke.

Luke tried to recall the routine. He wished he knew what time of day it was here right now. He hadn't thought to set his chrono. By the looks of the air, perhaps getting on late afternoon. The mist was starting to creep up. It felt good on Luke's cheeks, like his skin was absorbing water after living in the dry air of the desert.

If Yoda hadn't yet, he would go to the swamp and replenish the pot of perpetual stew with fresh water. Luke regretted his lack of foresight. He should have brought something for Yoda to eat. Something different. Even a ration bar.

There- just when Luke was starting to doubt himself and his memory, he spotted the huge old tree and the hut Yoda had made under the root ball. "Yoda?" he called loudly. And there was the smoke, from his fire.

Relieved and excited, Luke quickened his pace. Every few steps he called his master's name. He didn't knock on the door, just went in like he used to.

"Master Yoda," he said, ducking the low ceiling. "I've come back," he looked around for the diminutive being, "just like I promised."

He was right: Yoda was cooking. He only looked at Luke, then moved to the fire. Luke was surprised to see him rely on his cane as he grunted his way over to the stew pot. He was without vigor, looked smaller, less green. Luke, surprised at the change in his master, blurted, "I've only been gone a few months!"

"That face you make," Yoda said, and Luke averted his eyes quickly, "look I so old to your eyes?" He wasn't at all pleased to see Luke.

"No," Luke lied quickly. He wondered to himself, _what happened?_ For Master Yoda was clearly very frail. Luke could hear air move through his chest as he breathed. He felt badly. Had he brought some illness to Dagobah? Transmitted a harmful disease that didn't affect a human?

He had described to Leia that Yoda was old. Old, yes, but not near death. How old was he anyway? Luke seemed to remember Yoda telling him he'd taught for over eight hundred years.

Yoda appeared to have read his thoughts. "When nine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not!" and he seemed to think it was very funny.

But Luke was appalled. He'd come to- if he were honest, to preen a little; definitely reproach, but he thought now it to be in very bad taste. "I've come back to complete the training," he told Yoda, as if that would invigorate his aged master.

"Already know that what you need," Yoda sighed as Luke helped him into bed.

"Then I am a Jedi," Luke confirmed.

"Not yet," Yoda coughed. "One thing remains." He lifted his head to catch Luke's eyes. "Vader. You must confront Vader. Only then a Jedi you will be."

Luke fought the urge to roll his eyes and yell. Here they were, back to the same message. He looked down at the single black glove and relived the moment Vader maimed him. _I did that already,_ he thought darkly. Why couldn't Yoda let this go? He _had_ confronted Vader. He hadn't won, but he hadn't quite lost either. As a matter of fact, Luke felt he'd accomplished something quite remarkable. He didn't see Yoda leaving the swamp to duel Vader, did he?

Yoda was having difficulty talking, and he was talking about death. _It's the last time I might see my master,_ Luke realized. But he wasn't exactly upset, or sad. This was another lesson in the Force: how to die. Yoda was calm, at peace, and only Luke's presence seemed to pull him from whatever sanctuary he'd retreated to.

Luke could not allow himself to remain silent. He might spend the rest of his life, like Yoda or Ben, alone and always wondering, what is the truth?

"I must know," he told Yoda, who seemed more eager to die than he was to talk to Luke. "Is Darth Vader my father?"

"Unfortunate this is, that you know," Yoda said.

"That I know the truth?" Luke demanded.

And Yoda said the same things he'd said when Luke left before. He tried to put the responsibility on Luke, for his haste to leave, for his failure to complete his training. Yoda was dying, and did not see his own accountability, and Luke was resentful. _If you wanted me to stay, you could have told me._

Yet he watched in alarm as Yoda seemed to be failing quickly. He was freeing himself, Luke thought, of his physical surroundings. Maybe he knew he had to have one final talk with Luke before he died, and he'd been awaiting his former student. Even so, he'd been reluctant to talk to Luke. Because he wanted life, or because he dreaded the conversation?

Yoda knew he only had moments. "Strong in your family," Luke thought he heard him say. "Pass on what you have learned..." He tried to say more, but it came out garbled, strangled- death had him and Luke's heart was beating fast, his eyes wide. He could only watch. There was no stopping it.

And then, Yoda was gone. Gone, completely. In spirit and body. There was nothing left. There could be no burial, no grave. The Force did not allow attachments.

Luke stayed in the hut for a while, thinking. Then he put the fire out and went back to find R2. It weighed on him, how strongly Yoda wanted Vader dead. How it must be Luke to be the one to do it.

Luke felt terribly conflicted. There was a part of him that agreed; the part that flew through the rubble of Alderaan and fought the war. Vader was a symptom of the Empire, and he had to be brought down. But there was another part of him, a lonely, sad part; a son, a boy, who had the smallest glimpse of the love of a father only one time.

"I can't do it," he told R2, who whistled consolingly. A glowing caught his eye in the swamp, and the Force spirit of Ben was walking toward him.

Again, resentment bubbled up in him. Ben was already dead. Luke did not have to pity the sick and weak. "Obi Wan," he said, signalling he was aware of Ben's deceptions immediately. The first deception: he let Luke grow up thinking he was Ben, a weird desert hermit. The second, his infuriating attitude about Vader and Anakin. Ben still insisted the two were separate men, sharing the same body at different times. It all, he told Luke, depended on your point of view.

Ben still loved Anakin. Luke sensed it. "There's still good in Vader," he told Ben.

"He's more machine than man now," Ben answered sadly.

Luke shook his head. "I can't kill my own father." He had been planning on informing Yoda he wouldn't kill his father. That their training had backfired. That they themselves were under the influence of the dark side and they didn't even know it.

They told him things, lies. Your father was murdered. They trained him to want his father. To avenge his father. To hate his father's killer. _Well, hate leads to the dark side, isn't that right?_

Luke had thought, maybe, his masters would see his wisdom, themselves learn why they had failed.

But Ben jerked at Luke's statement like he'd been shot. "Then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope."

Luke shook his head. To him, this was another lie. There were others that were Force-sensitive- Leia, for example- that, with training, could develop their talents. And these others didn't have the same internal conflict Luke did about killing Darth Vader. He wasn't _their_ father too, was he?

"Yoda spoke of another," Luke broached the subject carefully. If he mentioned about Leia, what would Ben say?

"The other he spoke of is your twin sister."

And Luke felt his stomach plummet the same as his heart lifted. His eyes no longer saw the swamp and Ben gave an explanation he paid no attention to. It was there, in front of him, he caught her scent, all this time, and it was the most joyous, wonderful realization. Better than watching your mother as a beautiful mirage, better than meeting your father for the first time in a contest. Because this person, this sister- oh my words- she was real, she was alive. She was someone he could share his life with. He had a family. A real, loving family. One no one could take away. She would welcome him. They would love and laugh and fight. And be together, even when they were apart. He had a sister.

Luke's whole body was quivering. He was- gods, so many things- scared and overjoyed, exhilarated and frantic. He wanted to rush out of the swamp, find her, grab her in a hug. He wanted to tell her everything about himself, even though she knew, but now she had to know it as his sister. He wanted to know everything about her, go back to that hole in the tower she'd put in her Lace, The Constellation of the Three Goddesses and say _show me, show me Leilei_ and he wanted to grab Han by the collar and say _you be careful, you bastard_ _. We are the luckiest men in the galaxy._

He could fly, he was so irrationally sure, right now, to Sullust, just in his Vader clothes, no X-Wing; just on the knowledge, the sheer joy, that Leia was his sister.

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 _Short but sweet._


	36. Where There's a Will, There's a Way

_I have a sister._

Luke was in awe; not of her specifically, and certainly not himself, but _them_ , the idea of them- Luke and Leia, twins.

Twins!

It was surreal. Crazy even.

 _Come on,_ he begged the Force, how was he supposed to get _that_ out of the vision of the two babies being delivered?

He did a little dance in the cockpit, stomping his feet and screaming silently.

He missed an opportunity to learn the name of his- their- _sorry, Leia-_ mother from Ben, but he'd been too excited. Maybe he'd get another chance.

He couldn't wait to tell her. Tell her that his reaction of falling to his ass when he received her holomessage was not him being clumsy. Tell her that the closeness they shared was more than because they were sandwiched between a smuggler and an empire, tell her the Force-sensitivity was no coincidence, that she had inherited it, too, that she-

Abruptly, his joy froze.

She had inherited it from her father. Luke's father. Vader. Vader was her father.

She didn't know.

 _He_ didn't know.

He didn't know?

Their mother hadn't told her lover/husband, whatever Anakin was to her? Admittedly, Luke knew little of pregnancy. Could a mother know if she was carrying more than one? Wouldn't she be, like, bigger? Weren't babies active in the womb? Didn't they kick?

And if a mother didn't know on her own, wouldn't it be obvious to a med droid? He knew it was common for pregnant beings to be under medical supervision. There was a med droid, when he was growing up, who came to a farm to check on a baby's and mother's health. A couple of his classmates had become elder siblings.

His mother hadn't medical care? Why not?

Maybe she was somewhere desolate, placed there by her forbidden love to await the baby and stay hidden so the Jedi Order wouldn't know.

Maybe she and Anakin were apart from each other. He was off fighting the Clone Wars, and out of communication.

Maybe she already sensed his darkness and was trying to protect at least one of her babies.

He'd known she was pregnant, at least that much, for he found Luke.

Easily, probably, if he'd bothered to look. Luke was brought to the Lars, but given his father's name. And he was brought to Tatooine, his father's home!

But he hadn't bothered to look, Luke assumed, until recently, for he could have snatched his son easily from the Lars.

Maybe Anakin was told the baby hadn't survived when he learned of his love's death. Luke nodded to himself. That made sense. Though- Luke frowned. It almost seemed they wanted him to find Luke, if he found out, once he found out. While his twin remained- how had Ben termed it? Yes, _safely anonymous._

Like she was more the real threat and Luke just the decoy.

 _Fuck them,_ Luke thought. He was so sick of their treatment. She had everything. Safety, anonymity. Wealth, education. Royalty, which seemed a bit excessive. And training, too. Didn't she? Sure she did. Had they called it Princess Classes? Because she was able to get past Vader during interrogation on the Death Star. She had most definitely used the Force, even though she was unaware what it was. "I kept telling him no," she'd told Luke about it on Yavin. "In my head, just no no no."

Luke felt sick. Vader had interrogated her. He'd tortured her. His own daughter. _Oh my gods._ Luke squirmed in his seat, trying not to gag.

There'd been so many mistakes in the past; Luke couldn't see a way to correct them all satisfactorily. Vader had found his son, and it had made him... happy, in an odd, dark side kind of way. _Be with me, son._ Wouldn't he be just... floored, to learn he also had a daughter?

If Luke was a decoy, then was she a pawn? Did Ben and Yoda gamble on a Force maybe, and not tell her; see it, allow it... let her be captured, tortured, so she would hate? So she would kill, when they knew Luke most likely couldn't? The things she had said... his Princess, now his sister, was so brilliant and idealistic. _Vader is full of hate. And I hate him, too._

When were Yoda and Ben going to tell her? Luke was bitter again, toward them. After he died? Failed? Because he was just a farm boy with a light saber? They were so- _clueless,_ he seethed. They should know that the Force was an equalizer. He could be as powerful as she, without the social trappings she'd enjoyed. He _was_ powerful. And if they had learned together, well it was possible this whole war might mostly be unnecessary.

He let out a groan of frustration. The only thing Ben and Yoda were certain of was Vader could be undone by his own children. One who loved, and the other who hated.

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On a whim he had R2 reset the course for Sullust, so they could make a jump to the Alderaan system. Luke wanted to see it again. He hadn't understood what it meant the first time. It was called the Graveyard now. Little bits of the planet, caught in the gravity of its sun.

All Luke knew when Han brought the ship out of hyperspace was the ride had gotten inexplicably bumpy. Rough. And so was Han's voice, in disbelieving confusion, while Ben had felt faint. All Luke saw was blackness, and stars. Han knew he was supposed to see a sphere, blue and brown and green, but Luke hadn't. And when Ben had said destroyed, by the Empire, Luke couldn't register it.

Somewhere, out there, he thought as he drifted by on sublights, had been Aldera. A little girl had called that place home. She had climbed the winding stairs of a tower and sat by a window, and looked out to a view much like what Luke saw now.

The horrible thing was so many others had called it home, and all they had now was a Princess to make sure they got some sort of justice.

He would like to wave down at the little girl and say _hi, Leilei. It's me, Luke._ But there was nothing there.

"OK, R2," he sighed. "I'm ready. Let's go find the others."

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R2 let out an admiring whistle, and Luke nodded. He hadn't expected the Alliance fleet to look like this. It looked- professional, like it was a real armada now, instead of the little band of terrorists calling itself an army.

Cruisers- huge, graceful ships, with wide viewports- were scattered about an orbiting station. Freighters, fighters, shuttles, frigates- there were too many to count. He was given permission to land rather easily, as if they expected a lost pilot to show up six months later, but of course Leia had warned them to expect him.

His boot barely touched the tarmac when he was tackled from behind and his cheek hit the ladder rung. "Hey-"

"Boss! Shit of hells! You're alive!" Wedge was hugging him, yelling into his ear.

"I am," Luke laughed, delighted at seeing his old flight partner. They gripped each other by the shoulder and shook. "Good to see you, Wedge."

"What the hells happened, Boss? How'd you get lost? We all left Hoth together. We hit coords together."

"I didn't get lost," Luke assured him. "It's a long story, and I better save it for the debrief."

"I can't believe it's you. Ghosts are coming out of the woodwork. I half expect Zev, even though I know he went down."

"Ghosts? How's things here? Can you help me get where I'm going? This base is unbelievable."

"Through here and you're inside the station." Wedge indicated with his arm the way and Luke followed in step beside him. "It's as boring as the rest," Wedge continued. "Maybe more so. I'm Lieutenant General, if that tells you anything. Departments are separated by levels."

"Wedge!" Luke exclaimed genuinely. "That's big news. Congratulations. Guess I'll be flying way behind you now."

Yeah, well. They're handing out commissions like birthday presents." Wedge returned to filling Luke in. "You aren't the only long-lost one to suddenly make an appearance. The _Falcon_ flew in a few days ago. With the Princess! Man, when we lost her... thought for a few weeks we lost the whole war. Even High Council was moping around."

"You thought we were dead?"

"What else? Her anyway, and Solo. You, we couldn't figure out what could have gone wrong. Malfunction maybe. But with Hoth a defeat, and the Empire stomping around. Princess missed her transport." Wedge tugged on his elbow and they made for a lift.

"But I thought Solo radioed he had her," Luke went along with the story. They stepped inside, joining three tall Mon Calamari with bulging eyes and whiskered faces. Wedge nodded at them.

"How do you know-" Wedge threw him a sharp glance.

Luke remembered too late he probably shouldn't know Leia had left with Han. "We heard all the base comms, remember?" he lied.

Wedge looked suspicious, but swallowed it for later. "Last any of us saw the _Falcon_ she was surrounded by three Destroyers, just sitting. We figured she couldn't get away. Dodonna wouldn't let us go help. She disappeared in an asteroid field."

"Even with the Princess aboard?"

Wedge nodded sadly. "Yeah. That's bothered us a long time."

"So how are they?" Luke asked.

Wedge looked at Luke sarcastically, as if he knew Luke was asking for show. "They're good. Real good. Said they got captured by a bounty hunter on a fuel stop and have been held by Jabba the Hutt."

Luke raised his brows in fake surprise. "Oh," he marveled. "Yeah, that checks."

"Fuel stop, my ass," Wedge snorted. "You know Solo."

"Yeah, but that was hanging over Han. Just that, though?" Luke was trying to figure out how much Leia had said. "The hunter didn't sell them to the Empire?"

"Maybe the Hutt was going to." Wedge was chewing on his cheek, one eye narrowed at Luke. He wasn't buying a moment of it. "You've heard he likes to play with his food before he eats it."

"Yeah, I know a lot about Jabba. He's on Tatooine, you know." He shook his head, marveling to Wedge at the coincidence of it all. "To think, the Princess and Han were a speeder ride from my moisture farm. Jabba didn't hurt them too bad, did he?"

"Well, Solo's in medical."

"He okay?" Luke did want to know. And he still hadn't decided on what he would say to account for all his time lost.

Wedge nodded. "Don't really know what was wrong with him." The lift doors opened and the three Calamari stepped out. Luke got a glimpse of a wall of duroglass and water.

"Is that water?"

"Mm," Wedge answered dismissively. "Calamari sleeping quarters. Anyway, story seems to check out. The Hutt's dead."

Luke pretended to go goggle eyed. "Jabba the Hutt is dead?! You know, he had the planet wrapped in his little fist. Tatooine won't miss him. No one will."

"The Princess," Wedge announced, "resigned her position."

"She what?" This was a bit of a real surprise. "She's not High Council anymore?"

"Nope. I heard she resigned before they took it from her, but there's no denying she's spending most of her time in medical."

"Is she sick?"

Wedge looked at him meaningfully. "Nope," he said bluntly.

"Oh," Luke said, and grinned at Wedge. "Wow."

"You're looking tan," Wedge noted.

"Am I?" Luke said vaguely, and he smiled disarmingly. "I missed you, Wedge."

"Me, too, Boss. Oh, and they brought someone with them. A Soccorran. Said he helped them escape. He got a present too, once he was vetted. Princess vouched for him. Said he was experienced."

"Experienced?" Luke echoed doubtfully. "Working for Jabba is experience?"

Wedge shrugged. "He went against pirates or something. He's okay, though. Wiped us out at sabacc." Wedge indicated he should get out here. "Your debrief is in Room B. Down near the end. When you're finished, if they don't escort you to the brig, come back to this lift and take it to the seventh level. It's where us pilots sleep."

"Okay, Wedge. Thanks. I'll catch up with you later." Luke waved and strode off to find the conference room.

The room was empty still, and Luke waited, standing by the duroglass port and casting his thoughts outward. He wondered where the Empire was stationed. Leia had mentioned they staked out their corner of space. And he wondered if Vader were there, and if he was still chasing Luke as he had on Bespin now that Luke had departed Tatooine.

Vader had acted on orders of the Emperor. Luke recalled Lando had said Han was tested in the carbonite so the "Emperor's prize" was not damaged. Luke grunted to himself. Vader practically had an allergy to Tatooine, didn't he? Now that Luke was back with the Alliance he'd be well protected again, but on Tatooine, he had been wide open. And Vader had let him be.

Ah, Luke learned something just now. He was reluctant to bring Luke before the Emperor. _See, Ben? I was right._ Would it be possible, to bring Vader to Luke? Away from his Emperor?

 _Father..._

And the answer came quickly. _Luke._ Luke took a mental breath, thinking what to say, and the door whisked open. Luke turned, annoyed.

"Skywalker?" Rieekan said, noting Luke's expression.

"We all have somewhere to be," General Dodonna said briskly, setting a stack of data boards on the table.

Out of habit, Luke saluted and said, "yes, sir."

"Now, Skywalker," Dodonna said. "Let's establish a sequence of events," he began formally. He stared at the data board stack a moment, and burst out, "What the hells has been going on? You've been gone six months."

"Yes, sir," Luke responded .

Rieekan offered a friendly grin. "We're glad to see you're alive."

Luke grinned back. "Thank you, sir."

"Was there something wrong with the ship?" Dodonna wondered. "Eight witnesses reported seeing you lift off in the Wing during the Hoth retreat. We show the coords were opened by the astromech."

"Yes, sir, they were," Luke said. He thought, until something occurred to him, honesty was the best policy.

"Then why didn't you arrive?" Dodonna wanted to know.

Luke opened his mouth, and Force maybes came at him. He could tell the truth, all of it; how he had been at Tatooine with Leia. But apparently she had not been entirely candid.

He could make up a story. They all seemed to lean in the direction of malfunction. He could get R2 to forge something in his records.

Or he could use the partial truth.

The two men were waiting impatiently for Luke to say something.

"I'm a Jedi Knight, now, sirs," he said.

The two generals were comical as they sat in a stunned silence. Dodonna, who had trimmed his beard to a much shorter length, let his mouth drop open while Rieekan's brows disappeared into his hairline.

Luke nodded sagely. "I had a lead, about the existence of a master, and I went there and trained."

Dodonna's face was reddening. "How did you obtain this information?"

"It was while we were on Hoth, sir. Captain Solo brought it to me. I'm not sure how he obtained it." _Because I don't remember babbling deliriously,_ Luke smiled to himself.

"Why didn't you bring it to us?"

"Well, sir. I might have. But then I got injured and I was in the tank. Then the Empire attacked..."

"That's right," Rieekan nodded. "I remember. You didn't return after a patrol."

"Correct, sir. And when we evacuated, I thought, why don't I just see how good this lead is, and I went there instead of the rendezvous."

"Obviously, the lead was good. Where-"

"I'd rather not say, General Dodonna," Luke answered smoothly.

"Where did Solo get it?"

"I've told you I don't really know. Maybe from one of the runs he-"

"Did he sell it to you?"

Luke stirred angrily. "No, he-"

"Why didn't he bring it to us?"

Luke calmed himself. "He knew of my interest. He hadn't verified the information. It was something he came across accidentally, and he didn't want to involve all of Command in something that would have us chasing our tails-"

Dodonna was trying to rein in his temper. His palms clapped the stack of boards several times as if they needed tidying. "Think again, Skywalker. You went about this all wrong. Instead of consulting with your superiors, you took leave without permission. You stayed away, with no contact, for months-"

"Yes, sir. I'm aware of how it looks. May I remind you of a meeting we had, when you assured me if there was any assistance you could give in my learning to utilize the Force-"

"I remember," Rieekan put in. He turned to Dodonna. "It was after-"

"I don't need a reminder," Dodonna growled. "Yes. I told you the Alliance would back you, Skywalker. I offered our resources. But it seems to me," he indicated snidely, "we shouldn't be kept in the dark. When you go and use one of our resources, an X-Wing namely, and disappear in it for months-"

"Where I went is immaterial," Luke said. "And," he took a steadying breath, knowing this part of his tale would cause more frustration. "I won't say who the Jedi master is."

"That's not immaterial! If there is a Jedi master somewhere out there-"

"Suffice it to say the master who trained me does not want to be found." Luke considered telling them Yoda was dead. Though it was the truth, it seemed over the top, one detail too many. To himself, Luke summed it up, to see how it sounded. He'd found a Jedi Master, alive and in hiding for years, trained with him, and then the master conveniently died when it was time for Luke to return. He wouldn't believe his story if he were them.

"Jedi wants, my ass!" Dodonna bellowed. "A Jedi's duty is to the Republic-"

"The Old one," Rieekan put in. "It could be argued, even by a hack like me-"

"Stop playing devil's advocate, Carlist. I don't care! We are at war. I would think a Jedi's politics would side with the New Republic. I would think their notion of service and protection-"

"Yes, sir," Luke broke in. "You're correct, of course. And the master is on your side. He trained me. But to utilize the Force, even by one being, would attract the unwanted attention of the Emperor, and-"

"You're saying the Emperor can sniff out Force users?"

Luke hesitated. "I've not confirmed the Emperor is a Force user," he said slowly. "But his second in command, Lord Vader-"

Rieekan checked his chrono. "The briefing started five minutes ago," he told Dodonna.

"If they started on time," Dodonna snapped. "Look, Skywalker-"

"I am a Force user now," Luke broke in. "A strong one. I don't wish to call the Emperor's notice to it just yet. That would be premature. I finished my training, and I've returned to the Alliance to serve. I remind you I also am a pilot. I ask to be reinstated. If-"

"Does this change anything, Jan?" Rieekan consulted Dodonna. "To add a Jedi to the offensive-"

"Not if he's not going to use himself," Dodonna grumbled. "Does this master have a plan? Will the Jedi return?"

Luke cleared his throat. "Um, certainly they've returned." He raised his gloved hand. "I'm one. But I, uh, was not given a specific directive."

"Skywalker, excuse us a moment." Rieekan pushed his chair behind him and led Dodonna to a corner. Luke watched their heated discussion with amusement. He did feel sorry for Dodonna. He could completely relate. It'd be like Han having a new and improved hyperdrive system for the _Falcon_ , and never getting around to installing it because he kept having to leave in a hurry.

"We're missing the briefing," Rieekan stated. "And if we decide on your reinstatement, you should be there. Here's how it stands, Skywalker," Rieekan began carefully with a sideways glance at Dodonna. "We're launching an offensive. There's a second battle station, along similar plans to the original Death Star, and that's our target. The briefing is being conducted now. It will involve a ground assault, on a moon, to take out the protective shielding, and aerial against the station, very similar to what you did at Yavin. I'd like you to listen in, and see if you find yourself, as a Jedi Knight, a good fit somewhere. Then let us know."

"We're late," Dodonna grumbled, and he swept his things together and marched out of the room.

"Yes, sir," Luke told their backs.

The two generals didn't invite him to go with them, and they didn't tell him where the briefing room was. Luke got lost. He wandered around, taking the lift first up, level by level. At first he found it rather humorous, but then as a lot of time seemed to pass, he thought it frustratingly ridiculous. He might miss the whole briefing, and that wouldn't help anyone. So he lowered his chin, and closed his eyes, and sought Leia's presence in the Force. Then the way was sure.

He stood outside the door. He could hear a voice. It belonged to a stranger. Luke honed his sense of hearing. The man's voice was explaining about something down on some moon. Then all the room murmured, and he knew Chewie's voice for certain.

Luke was buoyed, hearing it. He needed to enter. But this door was apparently to the front of the room. He wondered if there was a back door, where he could sneak in, and if he should take the time to find it, when he- he felt Leia, same as he heard her; heard her emotions. All good, like she'd received an answer. Her voice said, "General. Count me in," and her voice was smiling.

Luke took it as a cue. Leia was his sister. Something good just happened. She radiated- Luke thought it in conflict to what else he understood. She was going to fight. She was fierce. She accepted risk, danger. Yet she radiated contentment.

 _Oh, then._ Luke knew exactly where he belonged. Dodonna would not like this explanation. _How can we use you, Skywalker? Well, sir, I follow Leia. And Han. General Solo. That's all._ He palmed the door, and as everyone's eyes turned in surprise at his late entrance, he announced, "I'm with you, too."

He caught Han's eyes with a smile. Still not in uniform, but a general. He'd done what he'd said, and he'd joined.

Leia rushed to Luke, and he took in her new uniform, not white thank goodness, and her halo of a braid, and it suddenly hit him, the unfairness of it all, that they'd missed their whole childhoods.

"What is it?" she asked, like someone grabbing something in the dark; knowing they had a hold of it but not knowing what it was.

He loved their Force connection. He didn't know why it was growing stronger. Because he knew they were family, or because Leia was more open to the Force?

The room was a sea of beings, many not human, and all dressed in uniform. Two stood out. The bare fur of a Wookiee, and the black and white of a Corellian.

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Luke's return made a few things clear to him.

Darth Vader would have to die. As would Anakin Skywalker.

Luke wasn't making the same mistake Ben did. He didn't think of them as separate men, existing at different times, one a victor over the other. No, they were one and the same.

His father couldn't live. There was no way. The Alliance was geared up for an all or nothing assault. The rumor was the Emperor was on that Death Star, and he was the real target. The Empire would die only if its Emperor were gone. And if the Empire was going to die, that meant Darth Vader would, too.

Luke didn't want to be the one to kill his father. But he didn't want anyone else to do it, either.

The atmosphere around Home One, the orbiting station, was many things. It was fatalistic acceptance, urgent desperation, and cheerful aggression. Luke felt none of these. He was more- thoughtful, he would say. Melancholy almost. He looked back, at the start, and was somehow sorry to be where he was.

It was- at one time he would say unfair, when he was younger, immature. Prone to whining. Not unfair, but- a shame. Unfortunate. Just when he had a family; at least a father and a sister, he would have to tear it apart.

"Too bad we came back so late," Han nudged Luke with his elbow. They were on another level of Home One, this one labeled Supply. It had subdivisions: parts, wardrobe, armor and personal weaponry.

"Why?" Luke asked. They were in wardrobe. He held his arms out as a droid took his measurements.

"That shuttle we're landing on the moon," Han tossed the pair of uniform pants, light blue with gold piping, to the floor. "I'm not wearing these," he grumbled. "They should use it to land on the Death Star. Do like you and me did."

"You got tractored in," Luke reminded him. "And we rescued a Princess, not assassinated an Emperor."

"Not too different in operation though, if you think about it."

Luke nodded. It was a good idea, he thought. And possibly the reason such a plan was not in use, if it had even been suggested, was symptomatic of this new Alliance he had returned to. Overly large, smooth and efficient. In a way, it reminded him of the Empire. The sense of innovation was gone. Even the strike team Han had carefully assembled was done from dossiers. Han was given files of personnel; experts. There were the tech splicers and hackers, detonator specialists, even sharp shooters. He'd managed to do it all while never leaving his bed in medical. "I had wires attached to my head," he'd complained to Luke.

Luke pointed to the pants. "You have to wear them. It's uniform."

"I'm a general. I'll wear what I want."

Luke regarded them. "Hm. I'm shuttle crew. Which am I?"

Han shrugged. "Navigator, if you want."

"Sure." It was all so casual. He almost laughed, but then he would think about his father. "Then I won't wear them either," he declared. "I'll stay in my Jedi clothes."

"We'll need these, though," Han selected a long coat in earth-toned colors. "For moving through the forest."

Luke moved to take a coat as well, but Han stopped him. "Nuh-uh. I'm general. You get this."

Luke held it up. It was in the same print, browns and creams and faint dashes of green, but it was a poncho. He made a face at Han. "You were gonna ask us, right? Was that your plan, for us to be on the shuttle?"

Han nodded. "If I'm gonna do something stupid, I want you along."

Luke smiled. "You've come a long way. You used to do stupid things, but you always did it alone."

They parted outside of Supply. Han was going to meet with the strike team in person, and asked a droid for directions to some conference room, and Luke thought he might as well go see Leia. She was in a meeting, he was told. He wondered what it could be, since she had resigned her commission. He sent her a comm text telling her to meet him at the _Falcon._

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He shouldn't be drinking, but he was. _Hells, I'm just shuttle crew._ Leia was drinking too; well, having a glass, Luke noticed. He'd had more than a few. So had Chewie, but he was a Wookiee.

"Did you ever get the feeling you're really dead, but no one notices?" he asked Leia.

She put down her glass and scoffed lightly. "All the time," she said.

"Oh," Luke laughed a little. He tried not to. He understood his question explained how she felt ever since the day Alderaan blew up, and it wasn't funny, but he'd been drinking, and it was just all so... so twisted. And the way she said it. She meant for him to laugh. "I didn't mean that," he told her. "I meant I'm wandering around, and they've all thought we're dead the past six months, and seeing us doesn't change their mind."

"It's because they think the moon strike is suicide. Or noble sacrifice, if you listen to Mon Mothma."

Luke thought about it. "I don't really see a difference," he said.

Leia smiled. Oh, how he wanted to tell her. To sit here, and know, when she didn't- it was hard. After what Ben and Yoda had pt him through, Luke decided he was fundamentally against secrets.

But it would have to wait, until after their father was dead. Because she was quicker than he was. The moment he told her, she would immediately understand she was Force-sensitive, and she would run to Command with a new plan to take down the Empire, and it would involve her.

She'd been raised well, he thought. Same as him. Both were secure in the knowledge they had been loved. They'd been taught compassion, right and wrong. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was a Skywalker. Everyone was susceptible to the dark side. But she felt the war would solve her anger, and that's how she fought. If she truly opened herself to the Force now, untrained, Luke was afraid he'd lose not only his father but his sister, too.

"We've been through tougher, don't you think?" he asked.

"Easily," she stated.

He looked at her, and she smiled again. "What?" she asked.

"How was your meeting?" Luke said.

"Oh," Leia sighed and took a sip. "It wasn't really a meeting. Mon Mothma and General Rieekan were horrified that I volunteered for the shuttle command crew. They were trying to talk me out of it."

Luke was insulted. "What right have they?"

"None, is the point," Leia agreed.

"What else would you do?"

Leia shrugged. "Stand by Mon Mothma's side, I suppose. Be ready to activate victory or accept defeat."

"You could be someone's gunner," he mused haphazardly. "You were pretty good over Anobis." Then he recalled what Wedge had said where Leia spent her time since her return. "Does it have anything to do with Han?"

"Probably." Her eyes moved to the ramp as they both heard the heavy tread of boots. "But you already know, Luke. I made my decision. I won't let anyone dictate my behavior."

Luke nodded. "Hey, Han," he greeted the former smuggler. "I mean General. Want a drink, sir?"

Han looked at the brandy bottle on the table and shook his head. He slid into the booth beside Leia. "No, thanks. I've been told to lay off for a while."

"A while? I'll just finish it off, then. Chewie, hand me your glass. By who? It's not like you to listen." He filled Chewie's glass and the Wookiee raised it in a silent toast.

Han grinned wanly. "My stomach, for one. A med droid might've mentioned it, too." He stretched his arm across the bench behind Leia, not touching her, but including her in his space.

"Oh." Luke held the brandy bottle in the air. "I didn't realize..." he frowned. "You're not a hundred percent?"

Leia turned her face to Han and Luke noticed she squeezed his thigh. "He should recover fully. Right now there's still an imbalance. What's it called?" she asked Han.

Han was looking at the table while she spoke, a far away look in his eyes. Without looking up, he said, "Vestibular disorder."

"Right," Leia said. She turned back to Luke. "It's hard to explain. The brain's sense of balance is affected by its understanding of movement and orientation as given the input by sensory organs and muscles and joints."

"Huh?" Luke said.

Han brought his arm back down and slid in the bunk seat, stretching his long legs out, and twisted a smile at Luke. "Kinda like you right now, kid. I'm always drunk."

Leia tsked. "No, that's not it." She looked at Han again. "Don't say it like that," she scolded. "It's going to pass. But," she directed her speech to Luke, "yes. Right now his brain is misinterpreting information. So he still might feel dizzy, or not see as well, or just-" she shrugged, looking sympathetically at Han, "miss."

"Can't be that bad," Luke tried to brighten the moment. "I mean, you're leading the moon strike."

"I'm a general," Han stated dryly. "I put a team together. I got someone to fly the shuttle. All I gotta do is stand back and watch everyone do their job."

Chewie, who had been listening quietly, put in, "I'll carry a chair for you so you can sit and watch instead."

It won a quick sarcastic laugh from Han. "Thanks, pal."

"So you're not even flying?" Luke asked. "Were you cleared?"

"I'm flying."

"Command has exempted some medical conditions. Based on what we're facing," Leia said. She squeezed Han's thigh again. "You've got a good copilot."

"Speaking of medical conditions," Luke burst out, "how did Lando rate general?"

Everyone laughed.

"False pilot is not a medical condition," Chewie said.

"But it might prove fatal," Luke joked.

Han laughed, but he said, "That's not funny. I'm letting him use the _Falcon_ as a preventative. I figure she'll help him stay alive. Plus, he's got a good copilot, too. A Sullustan."

Leia said, "He wanted to join. He was very earnest. And from what I know of his character, he likes to be important."

"Very true," Chewie nodded.

"It was my suggestion. He'd told me he freed a world from pirate raids by defeating them."

"Oh, so you're the one who told them about Tanaab," Han said.

She nodded. "He told me on Tatooine. He likes to talk."

"And just like that he's a general," Chewie said.

"Well, Han too," Luke said. "Nobody offered me a rank."

"You ranked yourself," Leia told him. "You told them you're a Jedi. If you'll remember, Rieekan has wanted to offer Han a commission since he met him."

"Yeah, but not general," Han said. A sly look came in his eyes. "I was just gonna head up the strike team. But when I heard about Lando I made a push for it."

Leia leaned out from him a bit, her mouth open in mock outrage. "What?" she said.

Han laughed and Chewie shook his head. "One never lets the other gain the higher branch," he said.

"Seriously?" Leia said.

"I still joined, Sweetheart." He rubbed her back. "Just not gonna let Lando outrank me."

"That's the most ridiculous way to become a leader I've ever heard of," Leia scoffed. "Because someone else did?"

"It's all the same in the end," Han dismissed it.

Luke rubbed the holochess table with his palm. "So she's going off to battle, too," he said softly. "Wish we were all going together."

Han looked at Chewie. "Why'd you let him drink so much?"

"Do we have to clear out?" Luke asked. "I'm not sure where my quarters are. Of if I have any."

"I know I don't," Han said. "You can sleep it off here, Junior. We don't leave til 0300."

"Okay," Luke said. He blinked at the holochess table some more, telling himself to treasure this moment. The feel of the bench under his thighs, the general smell of the ship. His sister and two best friends at his side. If he listened to anyone on base it might be the last time he'd do this.

"Do you have a will?" Luke asked anyone, finishing his brandy.

Han nodded. "You?"

"Yeah. Can I have your ship?"

Han's lips quirked. "Chewie gets it."

"Oh. You can have my farm."

"I don't want your farm."

"Leia, you can have my farm."

"Thanks, Luke."

"What do you have in your will?" Luke asked her.

She looked at him archly, and he smiled. "Shampoo. If I don't use it all before I'm killed."

"We'll get you something, Leia," he murmured to her, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the brandy in his belly. He kicked Han's boot. "Sorry. I've got something in mind."

"Can't wait," Han said. He gave Luke's boot a kick. "Not sorry. Get up, Jedi. I need you presentable in four hours."


	37. Worlds Apart

The Death Star was making its slow revolution, like a planet spinning on its axis. Inside, Luke was in a room. It was round, too, and the seamless walls also did not stay still. Luke only knew they moved by the flames rising out of the sconces, bending toward the right.

He was dancing, dressed in his Jedi clothes, black and tidy, holding his mother by her hands, their elbows bent. She wore the same lovely blue robes he'd seen in the mirage.

"In a perfect world," she was saying, and Luke looked around. Leia was here, too, dressed in white. The room was huge, and circular, and empty, except for Luke, Leia, his mother, and father. The light was golden with candle light and he was at a ball, but there was no food or beverage table. He kept tempo with music, but he didn't know where it came from.

"Let me go," Leia ordered Darth Vader, who was her dancing partner, and held Leia's arms the same way Luke held his mother's, only his grip was tight, firm.

"We are a family," Luke's mother said.

"Let me go," Leia said roughly, trying to jerk her hands free.

"You will dance with me," Vader told her, his voice deep and faintly menacing.

Luke twirled his mother.

"I dance with Han," Leia insisted.

Luke encouraged his mother to go on. "In a perfect world," he prompted. Outside the Death Star, even though there were no windows in this room, Luke could see the X-Wings getting closer to the Death Star, battling Ties out of their way. Soon, he knew, the X-Wings would make their way into the trenches.

"In a perfect world, you would not mourn the father you never had," his mother said.

Luke had one for her. "In a perfect world, there's no war."

He woke up, hearing himself mutter, _in a perfect world._

What? He opened his eyes, and there was still a spinning sensation.

 _Too much to drink last night._ He had to use the 'fresher, but he lay for a moment, thinking about the- dream. That's what it was. A nightmare for Leia probably- even awake, he could feel her discomfort, her unwillingness, her- her rebellion, Luke thought. _But it was my dream. I danced with my mother, and my sister didn't want to dance with her-_

Leia would never call him father, would she. She had Bail.

He tried to remember more details of the dream. He was in the Death Star, dancing, while it was under attack. Nothing was said in the dream, but he had the sense of limited time, like the Death Star would soon blow up. And yet he danced.

He got up, pleased the room was no longer spinning. Han would be pissed at him if he were terribly hung over. They were due to leave in- how long? He checked his wrist chrono in the 'fresher. Two hours.

 _My parents._ He slipped on some socks- Hoth had taught him to cover his feet- and headed out to the galley for a drink of water. _But that's not right. My parents are dead. In a perfect world, I wouldn't have Beru or Owen._ That didn't seem fair to them, or their memory. In fact, it was the first time he thought his mother a bit presumptuous.

The _Falcon_ was quiet; the regular clicking and droning hum of a generator was a familiar, comforting sound.

 _You gave me this world. You chose to die._

There was a glimmer of a light from beyond the galley, and Luke peered out into the lounge. "Han?" he said in surprise. "What are you doing up?" Or had he even turned in for the night cycle? Maybe- his boots were on, but like Luke he might just like his feet covered, and a smuggler had to be ready to run. A blanket hung loosely over his shoulders. His shirt was unbuttoned lower than usual, and his hair looked like a pair of hands had been through it many times. Leia's? There were two data boards on the lounge table and Han was reading from a third. His own hands? He didn't think a man like Han would be able to keep his boots on while a woman's hands caressed over his chest and hair. "Have you been up all this time? Or were you with Leia?" he asked carefully.

He really didn't mean anything by the question, except that it was his natural progression of thought. He asked because she was his sister, not because he was curious about- well, them, but Han looked like he found the question intrusive, and odd. Wedge told Luke Leia spent most of her time in medical, the implication with Han, upon her return, and she had told him she wasn't going to let anyone dictate her behavior. Leia was his sister, and he knew she loved Han, and he knew Han loved her- shit, he'd _heard_ him say it, Han Solo, smuggler and scoundrel, and well, if Luke were either of them, that's where he would be- together. "Kriff, Han. Relax."

"She's in the bunk," Han said, not really answering any of Luke's questions.

"We've got two hours still," Luke said and Han nodded. "Want some tea? What are you doing?" He turned the brewer on and took a seat near Han. "What are these?" He touched the boards lightly.

"This," Han said, sliding a board toward Luke, "is the satellite imagery for the outpost on the moon. This one's the old specs of the first Death Star. Got them from R2. And I'm reading this one, trying to see what kind of equipment's down on the moon the Imps are using."

"Are you going to brief me and Leia and Chewie on what the strike team's mission is later?"

"I can do you now," Han said frankly. "Leia already knows."

 _Ah._ Luke raised his brows faintly. That was more an answer to his previous question. Romance in wartime? Run your hands through a man's hair and get briefed?

"There's not much to it," Han said. "It looks good on flimsi. The powers that be," Han waved his fingers in the air, indicating command staff were idiots or wizards, "came up with a simple plan. Land on the moon, take the shields out. Here, read that."

Luke bent his head forward to see the text better. "'Determined as situations require.'" He looked at Han. "What's that mean?"

"Means they're leaving it up to us. But the thing is full of holes." He tossed the board disdainfully back to the tabl.

"Like what?"

"You think the Empire is not going to miss a stolen shuttle? That they'll shrug it off, 'oh well', and not cross reference any appearance of a shuttle they weren't expecting?"

Luke nodded. It would be a heart stopping moment while they waited for the Empire to either grant them clearance to land, or blow them out of space.

"Then," Han continued, passing a hand over his head and causing more strands of hair to stand straight up, changing Luke's mind that it wasn't a woman, but frustration and sleeplessness, "the code is outdated. It'll check, but from three months ago. They issue new ones monthly. And Dodonna knows that. Hells, even I do, from when I the days I flew a Tie."

"Do you have a backup for making the landing then?"

"If the code don't work, there won't be a landing," Han said darkly. "But, not thinking of that," Han said. "Let's assume the Empire's lazy-"

"It's a good assumption," Luke said with a smile.

A corner of Han's mouth twitched. "- and they let us land. We put down here," he leaned forward to turn on another data board, and Luke got up to pour them both some tea. When he got back the satellite image of the moon holoed over the table. Luke studied the key. Two great swaths of land appeared to have been cleared, at some distance from each other. One was a landing pad, rising very high off the ground. The second was a bunker. Adjacent to it, another unnatural feature: the generator's transmitter, Luke read off.

"What's our excuse for landing?" Luke asked, blowing on his hot tea.

"Delivery of technical parts and supplies. The tricky part, what they're leaving up to us, is how to get the strike team from the shuttle into the forest, to here," Han's finger pointed at the bunker.

Luke pursed his lips worriedly. "From the landing pad? How are you going to pull that off without alerting the whole garrison?"

"Exactly," Han nodded. "The strike team will be hidden in crates. I'm trying to see- it's crawling with AT-STs, but those don't carry freight- how they unload. If they open the crates there, at the landing pad, we're dead."

"What's the terrain like?"

Han needed to swallow tea before answering. "It's a forest."

"I don't see any roads."

"No. I'm guessing the trees are far enough apart they can get some kind of repulsor lift engine craft through."

Luke returned to the original problem. "So if they open the crates at the landing site..."

"We'll need a distraction," Han concluded.

"Determined as situation requires," Luke quoted.

"I asked for a couple of Imp uniforms, but Lt. Orrimaarko tells me the Alliance don't stock 'em."

"What for?"

"The transmitter can be shut down from up there same as down on the moon. I figure, if we're taking fire, we can keep the heat and let someone else actually do the job."

"Fly the shuttle to the Death Star," Luke understood. Han had brought that up before, and apparently was still entertaining the idea. "Let me see the specs for the Death Star. I'll make you a deal. As Navigator Skywalker, if we draw fire I'll take the shuttle." He grinned at Han, and waved his hand over the data boards. "I didn't think you'd be this thorough a general," he said. "This is new."

Han's elbows went to the table and he rubbed his eyes. He suddenly seemed very tired. "There's a lot new, huh."

There was, Luke thought. He didn't answer right away. There _was_ a lot new, and the thing was, Han probably didn't know half of it. He accepted Luke was a Jedi, because that was what Chewie told him. He accepted Leia's affection, because she told him she loved him.

That's why, Luke said to himself. Leia had asked him, before the rescue, what his first words to Han would be. He had said, "I don't know. Should I come up with something clever?"

"After he learns it's me," Leia told Luke, "I'm going to tell him he's loved. Because he'll need to hear that."

Luke frowned to himself. What had he said? Called his name, asked if Han was okay. And there was no way in any of the hells Han knew how to answer that question. But he was still Han. He had lied.

Leia must have thought about it a lot. Luke felt a little ashamed right now that he hadn't put a lot of thought into it. He'd been more concerned with rescuing Han- his body, not how to address the trauma. But Leia would know about that.

"You're still recovering from the carbonite," Luke told Han now. "You're doing pretty well, I'd say."

Han scoffed a little. "That thoroughness you see? That's me, trying to hang onto something, before it all fritters away."

"Like when you hold sand in your fist," Luke understood. "It sifts through the gaps in your fingers, no matter how tight you hold."

Han nodded, turning his mug in circles absently.

Luke registered the scope of Han's fatigue. "Not sleeping is new," he said.

Han lowered his chin in shy admission. "I don't like not knowing where I am when I wake up."

"What was it like?" Luke asked. "Being in carbonite. I'd look for you in the Force. Everyone has a, a presence," he tried to explain, before Han could interrupt him that he had no Force. "Everyone alive. Sometimes I'd get a sense of you, and sometimes I wouldn't. Like- you were gone. Not dead, but gone."

"I was gone, alright." Han gave a shake of his head, once, as if trying to dispel the memory. "I'd- I don't know. Have a... an awareness? But there was nothing. No sense of anything. Nothing to say I was even alive."

Luke tried to imagine it. "In a void," he commented.

Han's eyes were directed at the table, but seeing something else. "Nothing. Not even your own heartbeat. No air to breathe... and so... to try to think... I wouldn't get very far. Figured if there was such a thing as dead and crazy, I was it."

"Crazy's not new. Not for you," Luke tried to offer some comfort. "Have you tried sleeping with Leia?"

The look of incredulity Han shot him showed that Luke had taken him by surprise. "Shit, Luke. I'm gonna tell her you suggested that."

Luke laughed. Maybe it did sound zany. "I didn't mean it like that." He laughed again. "She's- kinda like my sister, you know. So I don't wanna know about that. You should see to your appearance more." Luke tossed his palm at Han's unbuttoned shirt. "I meant, you know, something to ground you. Tell you where you are when you wake."

Han's head was cocked over his shoulder, regarding Luke, but his smile was neither playful nor smug. It was actually kind, which was new. "You giving me permission?"

"Yeah," Luke nodded with a smile. "I am. 'Course, if she says no, you can ask me. Just temporarily. You know. Til you recover."

Han chuckled. "I like your style of medication better. Med droid tells me to take a sleeping pill."

"It's okay to need something, you know." Luke thought back to his dream. _I dance with Han._ "Leia needs you. You- protect her from Vader."

Han's tea went down his windpipe. "No I don't," he coughed. "I flew her right to him."

"You couldn't know," Luke said. He was thinking, when Leia learned everything about her heritage, that's when she would need Han. "But you do. You'll see. It'll come clearer."

"And you already know," Han said, almost in a dare.

"I do," Luke said proudly.

"What a fucking world," Han laughed, and they finished their tea.

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The Alliance was setting its hopes high. There was an innumerable amount of information about the new Death Star- it's location, size, protective screening, etc- items that came with numbers, dimensions and percentages; hundreds of data screens to scroll through- all precise and measurable. With that came an almost trivial piece of gossip, an unsecured rumor, that the Emperor was overseeing the battle station's construction.

"Why?" Han had asked his strike team, but everyone thought the why was unimportant.

The answer, they claimed, was sitting in front of them. Luke, Han, and Leia. The one who got the plans, the one who made the all-clear, the one who scored the shot that rid the galaxy of the first Death Star.

Han remained suspicious. "Yeah we busted the first one. But he's the _Emperor._ He's got a galaxy to rule. You think he's sittin' around, counting screws?"

If they had thought about it earlier, before Luke, Han and Leia arrived, they had settled it to their satisfaction. It didn't matter why. They had the what and the where. The entire Alliance had latched on to a how: destroy the Death Star, and thereby destroy the Emperor, and thereby destroy the Empire.

"Just who's the Emperor, anyway?" Luke asked. To him, the Emperor wasn't really a man- at least, he might be a man. Humanoid? Whatever his physical being was, he was more a symbol.

He'd been preoccupied with Vader. He thought it completely understandable. Personally, there'd been a lot at stake for Luke. But now the stakes were very high for Vader, too, and Luke saw it hinged upon the Emperor. Darth Vader had emerged at the Emperor's side after the Jedi were defeated and the Clone Wars ended. Yoda and Ben had hid from him. Luke was to be his prize.

Vader served the Emperor. Yet Vader served the dark side of the Force, which knew no master. The logic seemed to follow that the Emperor was the dark side.

Luke sat, immobilized by the thought, brows up and eyes wide. _We're fighting_ The Force, he breathed in wonder. _The_ _dark side- shit, and there's just me, and- And the Alliance, which is nothing really, before the Force. Just things. There's Vader, and me, and the Emperor._

Leia raised one brow at Luke. "You mean you weren't indoctrinated in the Imperial lore? 'We are his children' and all that?"

"I don't remember hearing that," Han said.

"It was mandated in schools. There was a pledge," Leia said, curious how the two men missed it.

"I didn't go to the same schools as you," Han said, almost cheerfully. "Luke's from the Outer Rim anyway." He used Luke's name more, now, Luke noticed, rather than the nicknames. Luke kind of missed them. They'd been like beacons, or guide posts. Another way of saying 'don't get cocky.' With the use of his name, Luke felt a kind of distance grow between them; as if Han was bestowing a respect on Luke that surpassed whatever Han felt for himself. Luke would be full of himself, Luke realized, all ego and arrogance- maybe much like his father- if Han had treated him with such deference early in their friendship.

"Well, if they mandated it on Tatooine I probably didn't pay attention," Luke answered Leia. _Did it say how he is the embodiment of the dark side?_ "I wasn't a very good student." He looked at the holo of the Emperor, whose features were mainly hidden behind a voluminous set of robes. He could see a pair of hands, yellowed eyes, and pale, wrinkled flesh. "Is he human?"

Leia patiently lectured. "Sheev Palpatine. Elected to the Senate by Naboo, maybe the last thirty years of the Republic? Yes, he's human. He was serving as the Chancellor of the Senate before the Clone Wars. And then when the war broke out he became Supreme Chancellor, which grants extra control in times of emergency, and is supposed to be temporary. He never gave them up."

"He's really human? Why didn't the other Senators see what was happening? Fight him?" Luke asked.

Leia looked at him scornfully. "Some did. It's called the Rebellion, Luke."

"Oh," he smiled sheepishly. "Still. It was a long time ago. And it's a war. Another war. You'd think... politics or something could handle it."

"The Clone Wars ended the moment he declared himself Emperor," Leia told him. She snapped her fingers. "Just like that."

"How'd he manage it so completely?" Luke wondered. "I bet even if we win this," he gestured his chin vaguely out toward space, "there'll be vestiges of the Empire to fight still. Those that refuse to surrender."

"There are, simply put, two sides to war, right? My father said it turned out _he_ was the other side. The Republic was fighting, led by a Supreme Chancellor, who in essence was the enemy."

Luke blinked and Leia nodded knowingly. The years of subterfuge, and intrigue, and secret planning. The delicate dance to stay always hidden, always on top, on both sides. It required a special kind of mind, Luke thought. One adept at tracing Force Maybes and manipulating outcomes.

There was another holo, of the much younger Senator Palpatine. Definitely human. Energetic, vital. "Twenty-odd years has not been kind," he remarked. _Consume you, it will,_ Yoda had said of the dark side of the Force.

Wait- Luke distinctly remembered Yoda's physical body disappearing into the Force at the moment of death. Ben's had done the same thing. _Master Yoda, are you telling me t_ _hat wasn't_ _a_ _consum_ _ing_ _?_ How was it different? Luke could hear Yoda's version: _Absorb you, it will._

Luke grunted irritably and looked at the holo of Palpatine again. He thought of all the Jedi shunted away in the temple, following the rules of the Order, saying nonsensical things like _consume you_ or _when you feel passive_ while some madman wrested control of the galaxy from under their noses. Was it possible to be so in tune with the Force that one lost touch?

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There was a time not long ago, when Luke struggled to belong and Leia didn't bother, when she was cold, and alone, and she thought futureless. They both were in pain and they both felt their losses, but the thing was, Luke tried, while Leia resisted. And the more time passed, the more she closed off and the more he expanded, until the moment they were both launched into their destinies; him to Dagobah and she to Bespin. She had said, "I love you" to a man who needed love or he couldn't be saved. And Luke had said, "I am a Jedi" to the galaxy, which needed him to save it.

He was standing against the wall in the loading area, and right now he was one of the few beings in it not active or busy. Large packs lined the opposite wall, little khaki discs sticking out of the closures. His sister Leia- the one they made sure was safely anonymous, the one they let rise to stardom as princess and senator and symbol of the Rebellion- was there, zapping the discs with a scan gun. Helping, Luke realized. Assisting members of the strike team find their bag. She didn't have to. But he could see her smile, she was so congenial, her brows up, head shaking, a wry smile; a genuine interaction with a being, thin, hairless, and wrinkled. Luke had no idea who he was. What he was.

If he could pull her to him, just because it was him, like she pulled him to her. But his Leia was not all his. She would tuck him in among all the other things that were hers. He had to share her with the soldiers here, who fought for her. With the refugees on Vrakith IV who knew her as their Princess. With ideas, even- democracy and justice. With Han.

He longed to think through the Force, _Leia. Be my sister._ But he couldn't. She was his sister; he needed to learn to be content with what he had. There was no changing out a blood relation. She was his forever. Known or unknown. Dead or alive. Like his father.

 _I've never had much. I just want this._

Yoda would call hers the path of attachment. The lesser path, but the more dangerous. His father had followed Luke's mother down it, and gotten lost. To have such power, and give it up for one being.

They were about to go to battle, and he was part of the shuttle command crew, as was Leia, but instead of chatting easily with the others as she was, he was leaning against the wall, feeling an unsettling ambivalence. Feeling a pain that was like grief.

He watched her, could feel her anticipation for the coming battle. She knew pain and loss too. Hers had come all at once, in one fell swoop. A family trait, Luke noted bitterly to himself.

But was she emerging from that cycle? Breaking with tradition? For here came Han, tall and subdued, at her side, and she reached up while he talked to the team member, rubbing his back at the shoulder, which must feel warm and solid, and it was so natural, so connecting.

She wanted to see the Emperor die and she wanted to win this war, and the sad thing, to Luke anyway, was how she might never know.

Ancestor Luke, spanning the heavens, the light at his feet Leia, and nothing else.

How ironic, Luke reflected, that the more he immersed himself in the Force the more he was pulled away. What happened to the Ancestor Luke he used to imagine sitting in the rocking chair?

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Luke could feel an end.

Whose, though?

Did his father ever think, filled with the gloating power of the dark side, _I may die today_? Did he ever _want_ to die? Wasn't he- tired of this, tired of the constant energy spent in hating, in desiring, in never being able to attain what he wanted?

Or did his thoughts stray to Luke, and his failure to secure him: _my son preferred to die._

Did he think to himself, since his son preferred to die rather than be at his side, that it would be easy to kill his son? Would he do that for his Emperor?

 _Your love preferred to die_ , Luke would tell him, though Vader hadn't known that. He should know that, if he searched for the truth in himself.

Luke had the sense to say to himself, _I may die today_. Or Leia, or Han. He thought, _We may lose. In more ways than one_.

He needed Vader. The thought came at him like a bold, definitive statement, and it shocked him. But it was there. The Emperor was not above the moon, counting screws. Han was right. This was not about the Death Star, and control of the galaxy. It was about the Force. The Emperor was there for the Force.

 _He's there for me. To finish the Jedi once and for all. Not just the Jedi- the light side of the Force._

How did he know? Did he assume Luke would take part in this Alliance effort? Vader had said something- well, a number of things- on Cloud City. _The Emperor has foreseen this_. Yes, he was definitely good at following the Force Maybes. So he was scared of Luke? Scared of a newly minted Jedi? Or, of course there were other Maybes. The Emperor could destroy Luke. The Emperor could turn Luke. _The Emperor does not want his prize damaged_. The Emperor could add to the darkness.

And then what of Vader? _Join me, and together we can end this destructive conflict._

 _I'll never join you,_ Luke had told him, full of horror and revulsion- and rejection.

 _Is it my end?_ Luke asked himself. He would like to ask Han and Leia. He'd come close. "Do you think we have a chance?" What he really meant was, do you see yourself dying?

He didn't feel any different. A little tense, a little nervous, but that was to be expected.

He wondered about his aunt and uncle on the day they died. If Owen had moved about his condensers, thinking of Luke and the day's delay, but something got him to pause, something- a nudge, a vague distraction, a sense- and he stopped to look up in the sky, and thought _I should plan a trip offplanet with Beru. While we have the chance._

And Beru, automatically loading the sonic, thinking about Luke and the note he left about R2, thoughts drifting, _won't it be nice when he has children._

And then the stormtroopers had come and Beru had probably even offered them a drink. And then she was dead.

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 _I'll never join you._

 _Join me, and together we will end this destructive conflict._

Could he? Just for a little? Team up with his father to destroy the Empire? Deal with the consequences later?

"If we win this battle," Luke approached Leia tentatively, "And Vader and other Imperials surrender, what will happen to them?"

She knew of his focus on Vader, but she thought it stemmed from Cloud City, and his hand. "He deserves to die," Leia said flatly. "I hope it happens on his Death Star, with his Emperor. As for the others, they'll be tried for crimes of war."

"What do you think will happen when the Alliance gets its hands on Vader?" Luke asked Han. Han didn't know about Luke's hand yet, or that Vader had used him because of his connection with his son. "Think they'll kill him outright?"

"He's earned it," Han said calmly, "so they will at some point."

Earned or deserved. Judgment, Luke saw. That's what deserving to die meant. Passed from one being to the next. Luke saw the dark side in the sentiment. Judgment was opinion, emotion. But earned meant something a being brought upon himself. Yes, he liked that description. He had to agree Vader had earned his end. The moment he followed Palpatine's orders and slaughtered the Jedi in the temple, he'd brought it upon himself.

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Just another couple of light years." Luke looked up from the navigation panel and told Chewie, "Almost there." He would like the trip to last a little longer. There was no Force in hyper, he realized, outside, in the dimensions they were squeezing past. Lightspeed travel was a manipulation of time and space, one thing the Force couldn't penetrate. His father couldn't catch him here.

Chewie nodded in response.

Luke got up and slid into the seat Han had vacated to go speak with the strike team one more time. The cockpit was too quiet for Leia, who was tense, and in a moment she had followed Han back.

He studied the console, because he'd never flown a ship like this. "You're a warrior," he told Chewie conversationally. "Do Wookiees have battle omens?"

Chewie shrugged. "I used to take it seriously, before I traveled the galaxy. Now I know both sides of war see omens, because they need to. I believe in the Collector, though."

"The Collector?"

"The one who chooses who will die. But he keeps it a secret. You never know until it is over."

Random, Luke thought to himself. As life was. Wookiee culture was very sensible. "Is he feared?" he wondered.

"No," Chewie said. "Welcomed."

"Oh," Luke said. "That's how you don't mind waging war. You're willing to die. Do the dead get a reward?"

"Of course. Glory, and feasts, and more contests-"

"More contests?"

Chewie looked at him patiently. "You are not a warrior. You fight, because you have to. You've won glory, but you do not want it."

"I like the feast part." Luke considered Wookiee afterlife. "It's like what you do in life, only you're dead. The Collector is building an army."

Chewie shook his head. "The Collector recycles the army."

"What do you mean?"

"The spirits he takes are returned to those born. That's why we live so long," Chewie explained.

"Ah," Luke was interested. "That's one way of seeing the Force," he told Chewie. "And it's true. It passes through living things, connects them."

"The tribe," Chewie nodded.

"Yes." But Luke lost his thread. It fit when he thought of one tribe, but Wookiees were warriors- "Why do you go to war?"

"Many reasons. Some grand. Some," Chewie extended a claw, "not so grand. An insult will launch a battle. So will drought. Life makes war."

"Life," Luke repeated, and Chewie was completely right. "Well," he concluded, "I'm ready to settle this aspect of life. Maybe have a feast. I'm ready for peace."

"And if you lose?"

Luke shrugged. "I don't have a reward. It's a little late in the game to convert to something, isn't it? Guess I'll just be dead."

"Perhaps that is your omen. You cannot imagine the reward, so you will not receive it."

"Oh, okay. I like that," Luke said. "I'll go with that." He used the intercom to signal Han they would be coming out of hyperspace.

Chewie chuckled. "I am looking forward to peace, too."

"And you're Han's aide de camp, now."

"What's that?"

"It's a military term." Luke tried another one. "Adjutant."

"I don't know that word either."

"It's, like, the assistant to the general. Gets him things. Info, and maybe kaf. Advice." An idea struck Luke, of the Force and Wookiee society. "Is there a chief warrior? Who decides about war?"

Chewie seemed to frown. "There's the Chief, but the Circles of Elders, too."

Luke smiled. The Force Maybes. Wookiee society mirrored the Force, in all its light and all its dark. It was an exciting realization. He wondered if he would find that elsewhere, in other cultures. And the higher the level of society, the more complicated the system? Senates? And when the Force got off balance constructs like dictatorships came into being? Maybe. Luke shrugged. He really had no idea what he was thinking. Maybe his twin had gotten him on to thinking about cosmography. She would love to discuss it with him, and that was thrilling, too.

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No one made a sound the first moments of real space. Except Vader, the moment they received clearance. _Luke._

The _Executor,_ Vader's flagship and bigger than the rest, was nearby.

"There are a lot of Destroyers here for a construction project," Han noted.

"Vader's on that ship," Luke warned.

The pride of the Empire was on full display in front of them, just- unfinished. A portion of it was solid sphere, the rest had linear chunks of black space filling it in. Repulsor cranes anchored to construction ships looked like small insects, but there was no evident work going on at the moment. Star Destroyers, dwarfed by the new Death Star, seemed to float idly by.

"Don't tell me that thing's just three years old." Han kept talking, veiling his realizations with typical understatement.

"Even with a constant droid crew, I don't think they would have made this much progress in that time," Leia agreed.

"You know what that means," Han said darkly.

"What?" Luke, who'd been thinking he hadn't heard Han and Leia argue at all since they left, asked.

"They've been working on this one a long time," Chewie answered him.

"And there's probably more than one dotting the galaxy," Leia brought her hand to her forehead.

"What?" Luke said again, this time in dismay.

"Is today a day of rest?" Chewie said. "I don't see any movement."

Leia answered Luke. She looked miserable. "They followed the same blueprint," she explained.

"I bet the idea was to replace Destroyers," Han put in. "Make 'em obsolete. Instead of Star Destroyers, they've got Planet Destroyers. Mobile battle stations."

 _Would you get your own Death Star?_ Luke thought at his father. "But it's incomplete," Luke argued. "Easy, right?"

"I don't like it," Chewie said. "My fur's standing on end. There should be crews out."

Leia's eyes were on Han. "It could be a trap."

"It could very well be a trap."

"How, though?" Luke asked. He wasn't being contrary, though he could tell Leia thought so. He was trying to offset the mood of pervasive gloom that had settled in the cockpit. "At Yavin, that thing was armed. Complete. The trenches were narrow. You had to hit the generator shaft just right to get it to blow. I'd worry more now about all those Ties the Destroyers can carry."

Han had an elbow on the seat rest and was rubbing the scar on his chin absently. "Princess?" He finally said.

"It's out of our hands," she said, still miserable. Luke noticed how Han was consulting with Leia. "The fleet is standing by; we're committed. It's all set in motion. I'll communicate it; actually you should, but I don't think it can change anything."

"Ssh." Han opened the ship-to-ship and spoke to an Imperial officer on the other end. "Transmission commencing."

Luke fell prey to their sense of doom. "Vader knows I'm here. I'm endangering the mission."

 _What have I done_ , he graoned to himself. It was supposed to be a sneak attack. And now Vader was aware of his presence and he would alert the outpost.

 _Luke._

He dared not answer. If Vader were to find him... he'd already done worse to Leia and Han. Luke wasn't going to expose them again.

"Shuttle Tyderium," the ship's comm hailed, "what is your destination and cargo?"

Luke and Leia exchanged uneasy glances as Han answered. Luke's hand was gripped around the armrest tightly.

What could he answer his father anyway? What did he want?

"I shouldn't have come," Luke said.

They waited on tenterhooks for the Imperial's response.

"Shuttle Tyderium," an Imperial voice filled the cockpit. "Deactivation of the shields will begin immediately."

"See?" Han said in clear relief. "I told you."

Luke gazed out the viewport at the _Executor._ He still felt very uneasy. He had the distinct impression his father was letting them land on the moon.


	38. Influence

Maybe Ben had been right. Maybe it _did_ depend on one's point of view. Just look at all the different perspectives Luke had gathered of the Force. To him it was experiences, to his father it was power. Yoda viewed it as an ally while Ben held it from afar as an energy source.

Most likely the Force was none of these things, but a combination of all. Still, Luke felt he was the more right: it was the life Vader led that made him seek power. Yoda's failure had sent him to the swamp, alone but never lonely. And Ben observed. Of course, Luke smiled to himself, that was just his point of view.

Luke, examining the lives of the ones he knew that lived fully in the Force, found them somehow... lacking. Each of them- Yoda, Ben and Vader- had given up on had left attachments behind, each other even- their commonality, once they embraced the Force. They were left with power and solitude.

Were they happy, though? What about happiness? Could the Force be what Luke wanted it to be, for him, as it was for Vader, for Yoda?

Happy. Luke wanted to be happy.

He wanted the sense of a life well-lived. The small things, as Leia had taught him. To fight, and earn, and struggle and love.

He wanted to be a brother and a friend. That was all. Happy. If the Force had more in store for him, that was alright, so long as at the end of his life, when he drew his last breath, it was a sigh of contentment.

 _So not today. I'm not playing that Force Maybe. I'm not finished._

Hard to be happy in a war, and yet, there were moments. He had learned, that even in the hardest times of life, there was beauty.

The mission was to take out the shields generator, but Luke gave himself his own: be there for Han and Leia. At first he thought protect them at all costs, but then he remembered the Wheel and Ord Mantell, and there was no way to know which Force Maybe would happen. So he amended it to being there, helping them find happiness, showing them the beauty in the heart break.

He slapped the control to let down the ramp, and the air hissed with rising steam. He couldn't see yet what awaited them on the landing pad. Quickly, he stole a look behind him.

Han had grabbed Leia aside before she entered the queue to disembark, or maybe she had grabbed him. Luke thought of his lost imaging recorder and thought what a nice holo it would make. The pair were sharing one of those wordless moments that came rarely in life. At unfortunate times, Luke knew, when you thought you might die and you only had a moment to say goodbye.

It wasn't the first time Luke or Han and Leia faced such a moment as this. He'd seen Leia stand as she did now, looking up into Han's face with a challenging haughtiness, and he answered with a daring taunt, neither caring who looked on, like a pair of exhibitionists. Luke had never been able to figure out what signals they'd been sending to each other, but 'goodbye' was not on either face.

Now though, he could read everything. Goodbye wasn't present still, but the look on Han's face was for Leia only, and she would not want Luke observing hers. It was lovely, and intimate, and unsettling at the same time, and Luke was suddenly lonely.

The steam outside had cleared and the Imperial docking manager was approaching.

"Come on, guys," Luke muttered to Han and Leia. "Let's get to work."

Both blinked, the moment lost, and cane ti gather around Luke. "Let's win this war," Leia grimly.

It was more than the shields generator for Leia. It was an end to tyranny. It was freedom, and peace. A chance to love and grieve, all the things she couldn't do while the Empire ruled.

If Han succeeded in taking the shields out, he'd be helping a galaxy he'd never really been allowed to make a home in. He would finally prove to himself there was indeed worth out there. He wouldn't find it; he'd create it.

Yoda, Ben and Vader had the Force, and Luke looked at them and decided he'd rather be with he ones who didn't embrace the Force.

With Leia, who could be so powerful, as powerful as the father she didn't know about, who would live with the Force as only a part of who she was, never the all.

With Han, whom the Force had never looked at twice. No, that wasn't quite right. Not the Force; the _possessors_ of the Force, yes, for the Force was in all. The Yodas, the Bens and Vaders. It was they who tossed him aside.

Luke's Force lessons had neglected to give Han a story. It never showed Luke the circumstance of his birth, as it had his and Leia's. In fact, Luke suspected the many Force Maybes that was Han Solo's life always ended in his death, and the Force just nonchalantly came up with another end for him when he failed to die as expected.

Should Han have survived his childhood? _One place I'd like to burn down._ Probably not. Definitely not as an Imperial Tie pilot, when most didn't last a year anyway, but once again he managed to write himself another chapter. He probably came close when he freed the Wookiee slave detail, and got an extra layer of protection in the form of an ever-diligent Wookiee copilot. He could have died at the hands of Vader, while buried under carbonite, or in the clutches of Jabba. Han never emerged completely victorious; rather he escaped, scarred and hurt but always a little stronger; always with a challenge: _P_ _rove it. Prove to me there's something better, something worth it._

Leia was at the end of his story. Luke knew Han had found it, finally, the proof.

Vader had a mission, too, and Luke was aware it might complicate things. In the larger arena, there was the Rebellion itself. He knew Luke was on Endor, so he had to know the Alliance was after the shields generator. How far would Vader let them get? Was Vader just toying with Luke again?

Luke recalled what Vader had told him on Cloud City. He had talked about overthrowing the Emperor. Would he let the Alliance have a hand in that? Did he envision a new government, a fresh start for the galaxy, like Han, or did he see himself in the Emperor's stead? And what of his son?

And what of his daughter, was another very important question. Luke had kept Vader's identity a secret from Leia. He had kept everything from Leia, her own identity as well, and he hated it. It would be hard for her, very ugly, but she should know.

Vader wanted his son. He would want his daughter, too, but Luke knew what to do. He couldn't let Vader have either, not until the moment of death. Then Vader could know. Before he joined the Force for the final time.

Another mission: gain a father without losing himself. It would mean treading very carefully. Luke was as resolute as he was on Cloud City: he would not join the dark side, or the Emperor. Not if he could help it. Which meant, when the Emperor gave Luke up as too stubborn to bother with, Luke would be killed. Probably order Vader to do it.

That wouldn't do, Luke thought. He much preferred to be killed by Anakin Skywalker.

 _In a perfect world_ , he thought back to dancing with his mother in a dream, they would be a family. She and Anakin with their two children, Luke and Leia. Anakin had created this world when he left them. So they would never be a family. Luke had secrets instead. His sister had nothing.

If all went well, she could have a brother. He would have to give her their father, too, when she got Luke, but that couldn't be helped. She wouldn't be happy with that, but another thing Luke learned was you could pick your family.

His sister wasn't too happy with him at the moment, but that was alright. She'd get over it. Luke was using the Force.

The Force was a tool. The same as a spanner was a tool. Tools performed a function. A spanner loosened or tightened bolts. The Force could do the same with thoughts.

A mind wrench, thought Luke, feeling clever.

The shuttle crew needed to get off the landing pad, into the forest, and it had to be done without incident. The Imperial docking officers had to be bypassed somehow. So Luke looked one in the eye, his face serious and magnetic, and waved his palm.

"You will let us leave," he suggested to one's mind.

The Imperial shifted his posture. But he said, "I will let you leave."

Luke tried to think what else they needed to have him do. "You will not notify your superiors of our presence."

"I will not notify my superiors of your presence."

Should he have the officer give an order to unpack the crates containing the strike team? Secretly Luke wondered how much _he_ was under an influence. He could feel Vader through the Force, dominant and powerful, yet curious and watchful.

Luke glanced at Leia and Han to see if what he'd done so far was sufficient. He could do more, if needed. In fact, he could have this Imperial cluck like a ronta hen if he wanted, his mind was so malleable. Leia's expression was stony, and Han was looking a little uncomfortable, so Luke exited the Imperial's way of thinking and led the way to the lift.

He had encouraged Leia to use the Force and open her mind and talk with him during their stay on Tatooine. She had seen him do a few simple things, like lift things- himself, mainly- when he meditated. During Han's rescue he'd been filled with the Force, but she couldn't really see that; that was for him. It was more the way time and space slowed and expanded the desert before his eyes. She was only able to watch his lightsaber techniques during that time.

He'd kept his interactions through the Force with her light and loving, and never in a way that would affect the outcome of their futures. He had to take baby steps with her, introduce it carefully, for she'd been terribly abused by the Force- no, by Force users- and needed to learn to trust it.

She was leery of their Force connection now, though, ever since he mentioned that Vader knew he was here. On Tatooine he had promised her he ignored Vader, sent him away, but here he was, moments out of hyper, and he allowed Vader contact. But he had to. It was the first step to introducing her to their father. If she saw Vader in Luke first, and came to accept it... Luke's chances were slim, he knew that.

His father had used this technique, the mind wrench, on Leia. Luke called it Influencing. Vader held Senator Princess Leia prisoner on the Death Star, and used the Force to enter her mind to learn the location of the Death Star plans.

It shouldn't hurt. A being- victim, Luke allowed- wouldn't even remember being influenced. Perhaps they would feel confused afterwards, but that should be the extent of it.

But Leia, who'd been able to resist Vader, regarded the Influencing as part of her torture. Her own spirit was so strong, she had felt Vader occupy her thoughts, try and take them over, fight for a place in her mind, two beings where there should have been one, and Luke wouldn't be surprised if Leia thought she might burst.

The mind as a weapon. Luke did understand Leia's viewpoint; he'd questioned Ben about Influencing and found it disquieting. For all he knew, it might have been Palpatine's tool of choice in the Senate during the Clone Wars. It wouldn't surprise him at all.

And yet, Luke couldn't help thinking as they rode the lift down to the forest floor in silence, a good politician had a well trained mind as well. Words were weapons. Ideas were tools. And Leia had been a very good politician.

Persuasion and debate were very different than bending a being's will, however. Fundamentally Luke understood that. This- getting by the sentries without drawing attention to themselves- was a necessity. He did it as simply, as non-violiatingly, as he could.

Hopefully one day she would come to understand the Force, understand it in her. It was a tool. And he wasn't abusing it. That's what he read from her expression.

He could feel her eyes on him now, behind him, dark and accusing and- alarmed. _Leia,_ he thought. _Because we needed to._ But she had shut herself off to him. She would not participate in the use of the Force like this. He wondered if she would participate at all again.

He turned around to answer her accusing eyes. He was unapologetic. He was the Jedi and she wasn't. For one, the Force wasn't about showmanship and skill. For another, it had to be carried with tremendous concentration and balance, and with respect for other beings. Luke felt he had that; he wouldn't want to see a human cluck like a ronta hen. He suspected his father might have, just to entertain himself.

There was a line he could not cross, which was where Vader and Palpatine went wrong. For instance, Luke could probably Influence the whole garrison to surrender, but that would be going too far. As it stood now, the Empire would soon learn a small band of Rebels had infiltrated the moon. Heads would scratch as to how that had happened. A lapse in duty might be cited, someone would receive a reprimand. But for an entire garrison to turn traitor, and not remember when they had changed their allegiance, or why, that was too much.

They emerged from the lift into the shadows under the landing pad. The forest stretched out before them and they all stopped a moment to take in the new environment. Gravity settled around their bones, and the air was high in oxygen. It felt invigorating to be on such land.

It was quite lush. Ferns and mosses grew everywhere, even out of the huge trees. Growth seemed rapid, as the smaller saplings held dead twigs in their canopies dropped from higher up, and the ground had large, rotted branches or huge, uprooted stumps.

Chewie breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring and fur lifting in the breeze. He sighed contentedly. "I can climb a tree," he offered, barely concealing his eagerness. "I'd get a good view of the surroundings."

"Maybe later," Han said.

"Maybe I'll hunt later," Chewie continued. His chin was raised to the air, taking in all the scents.

"The only thing you're hunting right now is stormtroopers," Han reminded sternly. "No time for hunting. Or climbing, or sniffing. So don't even think about it."

Leia adjusted the chin strap on her helmet and checked the fit over her braids. Luke wore one too, but Chewie was the same as always and Han was bare headed. He'd tried a helmet on before disembarking the shuttle, briefly, but took it off, shaking his head. It lay discarded on the captain's seat. Something was up, Luke noted, for while Han was a nonconformist, and he could be reckless, he wasn't vain about his hair and Luke had never known him to be outright stupid where safety was concerned.

There was a well-worn path in front of them, but Han led them sharply away from it. They concentrated on the forest, learning to step where the fallen detritus was thickest and muffled their footfalls. Still, it was hard to be quiet, with dried leaves crunching under their boots and the occasional twig snapping. Han turned once to check on their progress.

"What'd you bring them for?" he hissed in a whisper, waving his blaster in the direction of R2 and 3PO.

"Thought they might come in handy," Luke whispered back.

"They can't navigate this terrain," Han's whisper was a snarl.

Luke checked on the droids' progress. It was true- both were still some distance behind, 3PO's arms raised high for balance. His knee joints were unable to lift his feet off the ground, and he had some vines sticking out of his middle and elbowsockets from when he must have fallen. Luke wondered idly how he managed to pull himself upright. R2 seemed to fare better. Besides rolling along, he could lift himself for a short distance to sort of jump over roots.

"I'll help them," Luke assured Han, and he fell back a little. He hoped C-3PO hadn't heard Han, or he might gladly think he was being sent back to the ship. But Luke thought it never hurt to have a droid around who was fluent in six million forms of communication. And R2's port arm had come in very handy before. It was R2 who shut down the garbage compactor on the first Death Star, and without him, they wouldn't be here now.

Han scowled at Luke and marched off. Luke waited for the droids, contemplating the camouflage pattern in Han's coat. Leia walked beside him.

"We aren't too visible, at least," Luke observed to her. Probably Vader knew where they were , but if it weren't for a branch swinging wildly from Han pushing it out of the way, Luke would have difficulty locating Han's position.

"Master Luke," C-3PO finally caught up. "This is a dreadful place."

Leia smiled faintly. Luke told him, "You say that about every place we go. Just don't speak, alright? You look like sunshine and if you make noise you'll ruin everything. I'll help you over the rough spots."

"Thank you, sir," C-3PO said in a more hushed tone.

"What's that thing Han has?" Luke whispered to Leia.

"Thing?" she repeated.

"Yeah, from the carbonite poisoning. Is he alright?" He let Leia take the lead as he paused to take 3PO's elbow and lift him over a root.

"Vestibular disorder," she said. "I don't know. He told the Chief Medical Officer if he asked he'd get shot."

Luke snorted. "I figured that's why he's not wearing a helmet."

"Could be," Leia agreed, moving a branch aside and causing it to whip back toward Luke's face. "He won't talk about it," she whispered.

"It's not just the helmet. He's not really himself."

Leia's eyes darted to his gloved hand and then back to the forest ahead of them. "No," she agreed softly. She was going to add something, and Luke waited. Finally, she said, "I remember how it was for me. To be shaken to the core like that. I didn't have anything physical to point to it. I don't know if that's worse."

"Shaken to the core?" Luke prompted gently.

"You've had it, too. For me, no one could see it, but- I was a mess, wasn't I?" she looked shyly at Luke. "All the time, I was all these- things, ways. When I was angry I was so frightened- at the same time! I wanted to scream and hide but everyone would know. When I was guilty, I was- proud? That doesn't sound right. Proud isn't right. But I had done everything right. It just turned out wrong. Do you know sometimes I'd get a memo, from Mon Mothma- it was always hers, I could handle Dodonna's- and when I read it, I had to sit down in my office on the floor and cry? Because it just absolutely overwhelmed me. I couldn't take on one more thing."

"I didn't know that," Luke said softly. "You wouldn't know that, looking at you."

"I spent so many hours, not doing anything. Just staring. Thank the gods for C-3PO."

He'd had no idea. He thought she was in her office, looking at that printout of Alderaan, which she told him meant Princess Leia telling an Imperial _you're next to die,_ but really she stared at the picture as Alderaan told its princess, _you're next to die._ Gods- his heart wanted to break. Out of gratitude to the protocol droid, he took his elbow, even though a fern was not likely to topple him. He had kept Leia's secret. "But now-"

"I couldn't talk about it," she continued over him, "and all I wanted was to scream about it. That's what I was, this walking, silent, scream. " She shook her head. "I'm not making much sense."

She had sneaked a glance at his prosthetic hand. She didn't know what had shaken him to the core, but she was right. The hand had only been a physical symbol.

"No, you are," he said, wanting to share. "I felt I was different. My shaken to the core moment." They both chuckled sadly. "I knew I hadn't changed, but still I had become this different person I didn't really recognize. Emotionally," Luke thought he hadn't veered as wildly as Leia in feeling, but her sense of self had been shattered in a different way, "I feel like I may have been numb. Shock, do you think? Like I was waiting. For something."

"You didn't talk much," she told him. "But I could tell it weighed very heavily on your mind."

"Why aren't we telling this to Han?"

She smiled gently. "Because we've come out the other side. He's a lot of things. He's angry, and he doesn't feel well, and he thinks he just went to sleep but when he woke up for some reason he's not the man he was-"

"He didn't just go to sleep. He got buried."

A curt nod acknowledged his interruption. "- and everything is different. He's reeling." She cocked her head at Luke, face playful and loving. "He was pretty good at handling me, though."

Luke grinned back at her. "I sure didn't know how," he admitted.

"If he was on base, he used to come to my office and badger me about something. Ridiculous things. I remember once about the smell of the disinfectant."

A thought clouded Luke's features. "How did he know, do you think? A so-called mercenary smuggler, out for himself?"

"I don't think this is his first time."

 _Prove it._ Luke nodded. All those Force Maybes.

A large, moss-covered log was in their path. He and Leia set their rears on it and swung their legs over. The wood was decomposing, and gave a little under the pressure of their palms, the moss was vivid green and very soft. 3PO mimicked their positioning, but together he and Leia had to lift R2 to the top of the log. He jumped, if it could be called a jump, and made an adventurous whistle.

"First time he has you," Luke said, who'd been thinking about it still while they helped the droids.

Leia brushed bits of wood off the back of her pants. The moss left a smudged green stain. "And that's scary, too."

They walked in silence. Luke enjoyed the scenery. It reminded him of the jungle of Yavin, and also the swamp of Dagobah, yet it was completely its own. It was green, and brown, and soaring.

"Is it mainly vegetative life?" he whispered after a while. It was much quieter then Dagobah had been, where something was always growling, or chirping, or making noise as it slithered over the ground or splashed.

"The dominant species is Ewok," Leia answered with her own whisper. "Classified as LEC 2."

Levels of Evolutionary Civilization was a scale developed by scholars, human scholars at that, as a simple way to identify alien species and the level of civilization they had achieved by the modern era. It went from low to high, six being the highest level. Luke thought, cynically, it was a way for the level sixes to feel superior to everyone else. A level two indicated there was no advanced technology. Simple tools, using natural resources, a hunting and gathering society.

"I don't see anything," Luke said to Leia. He scanned the area before them again, trying to ascertain if a stump was cut, or a hole in the ground was a burrow. But it all looked natural; nothing seemed manipulated. "How do they make their homes?"

"I wonder how the Empire's presence affected them," Leia said. "Taking their land like that."

"You think they've been subjugated?"

She lifted a shoulder. "It's possible. It is quiet."

Luke turned his head in all directions. "They have to be aware of us. Maybe they're watching."

"Or maybe their population has been drastically decreased. The Empire could have introduced a disease. Or killed them. Taken them off planet into slavery."

Luke nodded. "But are they herbivores? Because there isn't anything else around either."

Everything Leia had listed was known to have happened on other worlds. Like Kasshyyk, Luke thought, catching sight of Chewie's tall form up ahead. Wookiees, Luke thought he remembered, were level four. They had no system of writing, and advanced technology had been introduced but not invented, though they had adapted to it well.

Did the scientists ever do more than mark off a checklist on the societies they observed? Because in some ways, Wookiees were perhaps better at this whole living thing than humans were. Luke was willing to bet there was a lot more to Ewoks than hunting with simple tools.

They trudged through the forest around the landing pad, and came up behind where more sentries were posted. Han, already there and peering over a fallen tree, caught their eye briefly. "Chewie and I will handle this," he told Luke and Leia.

 _Distraction time_ , Luke thought. Once the area surrounding the landing pad was clear of troopers, the strike team would be let out of the crates. Right now they could see only two troopers. They were moving about the forest on foot, carrying black satchels; one doing something on the forest floor- depositing something, it looked like- and Luke had the crazy thought- _we're not so different after all-_ maybe they were placing sensors like he had done on Hoth, but instead of tauntauns, these troopers had speeders.

Luke was about to offer to go himself, and not bring up the question if Han should, but Han and Chewie were already on the move, readiness and something- almost a happiness, an eagerness, in their postures. "Quietly," Luke warned. "There might be more of them."

"Hey," Han turned around with a wink, "it's me."

Distraction time. _Yeah, I know,_ Luke thought to himself. _I was thinking the same thing._

"He's got some crazy idea, hasn't he?" Leia said dryly, but she was alert, rising to a half crouch.

"And typically, he's not sharing it," Luke said.

They rolled their eyes at each other tolerantly. "We'll have to remind him generals give orders," Leia said quietly, her eyes trained on Han and Chewie as they tread quietly over branches and leaves.

Luke grinned at her comment. Yes, Han was being true to form, reckless and spontaneous, but it was fine. There was a- Luke tried to figure out why he felt the moment was one to celebrate- yes, there was a constancy at work here, a basic truth. Han knew the story. The farm boy had grown into the Jedi, and the Princess, once a title was now a woman, and the smuggler had picked sides and become a general, but it was still, at its core, the three of them: heart, soul, and spine.

And Luke understood. There were _supposed_ to be more of them, that was Han's idea; he had no intention of hunting one trooper at a time, sneaking through the forest. Han knew the Imperial mindset. His inability to conform was one reason why he found himself cashiered from the Navy. No trooper thought for himself, acted by himself. When one noticed something, they all acted on it.

Han was going to walk noisily through the forest, alert the stormtroopers, and cause such a distraction that the area would empty, and he'd be able to free the strike team from the crates. Luke and Leia were to make sure none got too far when the area emptied.

"We're clean up," he muttered to Leia. It wasn't much different from when Han broke off from Luke and Leia on the first Death Star, chasing stormtroopers away from them, was it?

The tree they were hiding around had fallen recently, and by the looks of it, in the prime of life. Some of the branches that stuck up, still attached, had green leaves on them. Luke sent his eyes down the large trunk, looking for storm damage. Either fibers twisted from a strong wind, or cracks in the bark from a lightning strike, like he'd seen in the trees on Bug Base. This one wasn't weak; he didn't notice borer holes, or cavities pecked from bird beaks. Instead the trunk looked like great chunks were taken from it. It was mutilated.

Luke patted it with his ungloved hand. Another innocent victim. The tree had gotten in the way when the Empire brought their land-clearing vehicles in.

Chewie probably couldn't make a sound with his steps if he tried. His huge feet were unshod, flat, and furred. Besides that, he was a Wookiee, and though the moon of Endor was not his planet, he felt at home enough to walk like a Wookiee in a forest.

Han was taking unusual care. If he was bothered by the vestibular disorder, and Luke figured he probably was, seeing as he was only out of medical because there was a martial emergency, the uneven ground would make things difficult. Luke figured Han was aiming to get a little closer before he let the trooper become aware of his presence. His arms were up for balance, blaster pointing to the sky, and he looked before he stepped, landing on tiptoe. Luke saw him searching the ground, watching for twigs, measuring the distance between himself and the trooper.

When he felt the moment was right, Han let his whole foot fall heavily. A twig snapped loudly, and a trooper spun around.

Han was a little too close, Luke thought. "Great," he muttered, as the trooper caught Han squarely on the jaw with a strong rear punch, and Han was knocked to the ground.

Luke stood, ready to join the fight. A trooper shouted. Leia darted off.

Leia, or Han? Luke was torn for a moment. He heard the distinctive sound of a motor start, and Leia shouted, "Over there! Two more!" One last glance at Han showed that Han was flinging the trooper over his shoulder, and anyway, he had Chewie. Luke took off after Leia.

Damn- she was nimble, Luke thought. She had the briefest head start, but there must have been woods to run through on Alderaan, because she took to it like a fleet-footed animal. Luke, on the other hand, felt himself slowed by ferns trying to grab him, roots and branches rising out of the ground and trying to trip him. "Leia, wait!" he shouted.

The hood of her green camo poncho was flapping on her back, and Luke followed it, determined not to lose her. Behind him, he could hear blaster shots, but Chewie too, roars of the fight, which meant Han was probably fine.

Leia vaulted onto the seat of one of the speeders and was halfway to depressing the start pedal when Luke jumped on behind her. He was going to complain but saw immediately he best leave her concentrate on her piloting skills.

Even inside his head, _I hope you're up for this!_ sounded high and a little panicked, "Not so fast," he shouted. "Learn the machine first!" That had been his first lesson in sims when they landed at Yavin, and it was good advice. He leaned a little over the seat, trying to see around Leia.

There were two speeders ahead. Quickly, Luke did the math. Three speeders, two Rebels, two Imperials. Han was back there, wrestling with one. Was that the total?

The ones Leia pursued knew the machine, and they knew the forest. Two speeders zipped by in a hurry, veering around an enormous trunk.

A foot pedal for acceleration. The handles rolled- gears, no doubt, and braking thrusters. In front of the seat, a kind of console, with three switches. What? Luke wondered. The one they used on Tatooine had been a simple machine. What did a speeder need beside 'go' in various speeds and directions? A firing mechanism, perhaps. Sure. The Empire weaponized everything. Computer, for diagnostics. And communications, for-

"Jam their comlink," he shouted in her ear, and looked at the symbols on the console. "Center switch."

The entire forest blurred into streaks of green and brown. "Follow his white," Luke encouraged. The uniform of the troopers was a big help, like a spot light: _fly this way_. As long as they could see one, and he hadn't crashed into anything, they wouldn't either.

All Luke had was sound. The whoosh of the forest, the hum of the speeder. He tried to help Leia through the Force, but she was untrained and concentrating so hard he knew he would just distract her.

The speeders ahead jolted upwards, but Leia didn't- Luke's muscles tightened as he prepared to crash- it was a broken tree, wrenched from its base, right in their air space- it loomed closer and closer and Luke thought _too late pull up_ but instead of braking, or wrenching up, Leia nosed the speeder down, just a nudge. It was a gamble, and Luke ducked his head against Leia's back.

The sound was the same. The hum, the whoosh. Limbless trunks, solid, seemed to jump in their path, but they were still flying. Luke looked behind him in amazement. They had just barely fit underneath.

He thought somehow the near miss should make him more terrified as they flew, but it had the opposite effect. He was calmed. He exhaled meditatively. Leia's concentration was unwavering. She had this. It could be worse. He was sure, based on how grim and silent she was, she had done nothing like this in the forests of Alderaan, but Luke thought he would place his life in her hands.

 _First time for everything,_ Luke thought, and remembered the canyon crash in his Skyhopper, how he'd barely seen it coming. They needed to hurry up, get rid of these damn troopers, get off these speeders. Concentration was tiring. Sooner or later, she'd slip.

"You're doing good," he encouraged, yelling in her ear. "Try and get closer."

He saw her helmet dip in a determined nod, and she hit the foot pedal another notch faster. The sound of the blurred forest whined a pitch higher.

"Get alongside that one," he shouted.

Leia obeyed, but apparently the trooper had played this game before. He answered, bringing his own speeder against theirs.

"A-oh-wo!" Leia made an odd yell. The speeder wobbled dangerously, and reflexively Luke lifted his legs out for balance. Leia jerked on the handles roughly and steered them side to side until she had the craft again under her control. The Imperial speeder pilot hit them again. Luke heard himself growl.

"Not me!" Leia yelled fiercely. She managed to keep them balanced, then gritted her teeth, bent herself lower over the handles, and hit the trooper with their speeder. Luke lifted his ankle out of the way. _That's it, sis_ he thought, feeling her surge of triumph, _take control._

They couldn't keep this up. Even with Leia defiantly yelling "No!" at the trooper, between trying to stay upright, avoiding flying into trees, spilling into trees, sooner or later they were bound to hit something.

 _We might blow up,_ Luke thought. _How's Han going to know?_

 _Well, then, we can't. Better blow them up._ Luke's eyes flitted back and forth from the speeder pilot to the trees, which would be a splash of brown until one suddenly took shape, sharply in focus, just feet from them. He absorbed the Force, calculating speed and distance. Then the Force slowed speed, and shortened distance, and helped him leap onto the back of the enemy's speeder.

The trooper wasn't expecting that, and neither was he expecting to be roughly thrown off. Luke would have liked to see how he landed, but he couldn't take the time. Mere seconds had passed between the moment the trooper's hands left the controls and Luke took over, but it was enough time to cause the bike to head straight for a tree, and Luke had to swerve wildly.

They hadn't quite done it. Two Rebels on two bikes against one Imperial speeder. The math was looking better. He was about to suggest to Leia to turn around and head back to Han, let him finish off this last one, maybe find that trooper's body and make sure he was in no shape and get up and walk back to base when out of nowhere blaster fire glanced off the back of Leia's speeder.

Where the hells had they come from? Were there speeders just parked in the forest? Had they flown into another sector patrol? Now the math was no good. Three against two.

"Keep on that one!" Luke yelled to Leia. "I'll take these two."

She nodded sharply. Luke was aware of something besides the urgency added to his emotions. A regret. A foresight. There was no time to speak. She continued on her way, her hood bouncing its own little dance, no _stay safe_ , no _be careful._ No returning to Han, victorious-

 _No Maybes._ Luke hit the brakes all the way, halting his craft and almost throwing himself over the handlebars, and the two Imperials sped by without even seeing him.

He hit the trigger and fired off a few rapid shots. The two ahead were veering this way and that, but he saw the pattern in the Force. Within in moments, he'd taken one out of the equation.

One and one. Distantly, he heard a boom. Leia? _Leia?_

A patch of ferns- he was flying through them, shredding leaves, tasting green on his lips, _don't emerge in a tree, don't em-_

The Imp brought his speeder against Luke's. They latched, hooked on something, on each other. Luke's eyes widened, and both he and the trooper worked to free themselves, now twice as wide in a narrow path-

Luke looked down, trying to uncouple the machines. _How to-_ Up, and brown, crystal clear, all brown, no green, no dappled sunlight, uneven lines of bark-

A tree-

There was nothing to do- the Force couldn't fell a tree that fast, his saber was- nothing-

 _There's always something._

He rolled off his speeder, curling into a ball, willing himself to drop to the ground and just break his fall with some thin branches. His speeder impacted full force against the tree. Luke flinched. _Leia._ The sound was the same he'd heard before.

His rival looped around the trees. He was very good, Luke allowed. He probably enjoyed this assignment on the forest moon. Luke would have, too. He ignited his lightsaber. Yes, in the thick of nature... the green blade just more green in the forest... flying, and racing, and challenging... camouflaged, almost...

He slashed, and sliced off a piece of the speeder. The difference, Luke thought, was if he were that pilot, racing around the forest because it was fun, he'd prepare himself for when it might not be fun. Like now. The pilot was hanging on for dear life as his craft spun him round and round in a barrel roll, completely out of control. He should drop, but he didn't, at least from what Luke could tell, and the forest had to suffer another crash.

Luke extinguished his lightsaber. He stood a moment, thinking, listening. It was quiet. No motor, no snap of branches. No voices calling. Nothing.

 _Where are you?_ He was asking everybody. Leia, Imperials, the Ewoks, Han.

He had no idea where he was. He pulled out his comm, but found the Empire had thought to jam _their_ frequencies.

 _Turnabout is fair play._ It sounded like something Ben would say. Well, Luke considered. The Ewoks were of no concern. At least not yet. The Imperials were, so best to stay alert. Leia could be anywhere, and Han was most likely waiting for both of them where they'd last seen him. Luke broke into a trot. Maybe he'd come across a speeder.


	39. Spectrums

There was no way to reach Han; the comms were useless. No way to reach Leia, either, except through the recent past, since she wasn't talking to him through the Force. Her Force signature drifted around the trees, under branches, through hollowed stumps. The speeder chase, Luke realized.

Luke followed it, finding another signature. _Me,_ he saw, shyly delighted. It was like viewing a holo of yourself from behind; you saw what others did.

His was green, like his lightsaber. Did it have a specific meaning? _Am I green?_

Green was- life. The color of the Force. Or maybe Luke's Force. For his father's lightsaber was blue.

Blue. Green. Luke weighed them in his mind. Blue was-

A psychologist would have a field day with this, he thought. If he allowed blue to describe his father he would have turned from him long ago.

It wasn't a color he could say he trusted. Or felt comfortable with. He thought of the great sea on Calvunca, where the Sheltiv swam. It was so big, and frightening, because at the time Luke didn't swim. And it wasn't clear. Where the water was turquoise he could see under the surface, but not where it was deepest, a dark indigo.

He laughed ironically to himself. Blue had hidden depths that you couldn't trust, didn't feel safe in. Maybe it did describe his father after all.

So Luke's was green. It was a good color; he liked it. In the Alliance it was the all clear signal. The go. Was it energy? He paused by a fern, another green, which had new growth sprouting from its base; fuzzier, soft, lighter in color. Renewal? All curled up in a spiral, slowly unfurling itself when the sun allowed. _Oh, that's me alright._ Growth.

It was a kind of dependable color too, somehow. _Come on, Mr. Psychologist. Figure that one out._ Dependable, because, well, you could just count on it, to keep growing, keep trying, become the mature fern that gladly shared its sunshine.

He still liked it. He liked himself.

He continued through the forest, which remained deceptively quiet. _I share sunshine,_ he told the forest. _Don't be afraid._ Continued through the trees and the quiet, on the way back to Han, who knew Luke's color was green the moment he met him, didn't he? _Who's gonna fly it, kid. You?_

Leia's Force signature wasn't quite a color yet. Maybe it had to do with gaining more sense of the Force, or surrendering yourself within it, and she wasn't at that point yet. Still, Luke could see it. It wasn't a color so much as a… a taste, a taste he could see.

Some white, naturally, but interestingly enough, flashes of purple, a berry, which brightened to red, or deepened to blue. Luke didn't need a psychologist; he needed a physics teacher. Or an art teacher.

Purple, though. He was fascinated. There was no purple growing here that he could see, though he did see tiny white flowers, and many-petaled yellow ones. Was it a natural color?

A paint brush, dipping into pigment, swelling and blooming with the liquid, to soften; leave thick and juicy puddles of color. Luke was a boy, eight or nine, he could see himself, how calmed he felt, swirling paint around, his cheek resting in the other hand, warm and content. Sleepy, almost. Daydreaming; disappointed when the teacher stopped them. In front of him, a palette, simple and obvious. But you take one, and add another, and you got something brand new.

Luke remembered creating green, growing purple. They stemmed from blue.

The calm, the sensations. _I accessed the Force,_ he shivered in thrill. _When I was a little boy._

He had made green; it was blue and yellow. Blue! Blue like the robes his mother wore, like his father's light saber, like the little yellow sun of Tatooine.

And purple, which was not quite as magical; he hadn't liked it as much. It was a mixture of red and blue, and he could still see the original two colors in the new, separate them.

Luke flat out stopped walking and stared at a leaf, eyes unfocused because he couldn't be distracted. He knew he was on to something, something revelatory. Colors, and the Force. Red, like blood; anger and love, and- intensity. Combined with blue, coolness and fluidity.

They worked on a white background, his teacher had explained, because white was all colors. The combination of all. Or, Luke frowned, because there was some science there too, and he was trying to remember. White reflected, and black absorbed, obliterating light.

Was it always in colors? Wouldn't it be fun to have a Force signature that was sour, or bumpy.

Luke closed his eyes, and thought of his father, and saw black. _You're blue, Father._ How exhausting it must be to be Darth Vader. He denied everything he once was.

Not so anymore. He recognized his son. Perhaps a little bit of his blue was seeping in, a little light allowing to show. _Maybe it's me,_ Luke thought. He would like to calm that red rage, add some blue back into it. It might just save Luke.

He shrugged as he stood back up and resumed walking. It might make a difference in the way his father died, too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

From behind a guardian tree, amid dapples of sunshine, Luke heard a relieved shout.

"Luke!" Han jumped to his feet, blaster out. He kept it pointed at Luke, even as he recognized him, and his jaw was clamped tight. He flicked his eyes to either side of Luke, searching. "Where's Leia?" he demanded.

Luke had a sudden gnawing worry for Leia, because he saw he'd been wrong. Han's presence was undeniably brown. What did it mean, that his was so solid, so earthy, a non-Force user, and hers was like- like vapor? Had something happened to her?

Luke took in the brown, and looked around the clearing for Leia. "She's not back yet?"

A whole spectrum of browns, swirling into lightness, becoming cream, or darkness, deepening into black. Han was brown. He was-

No wonder so many misread him. Brown was dirty, dead leaves and soil. It was the underside of life, wasn't it? Luke's green sought the sun but Han's went underground. Green was energy and renewal but it came out of the ground, it came out of dead things. Brown enriched, nurtured.

Not sweet, not pretty. But necessary. Without brown how could anything else be?

"I thought she was with you," Han said, taking a step forward.

 _This is me,_ Han had told Luke, _trying to hold on to anything before it fritters away._

Us, Luke thought. Me and Leia. We flew off and we left him behind, just like the carbonite. _"_ We got separated." He looked in all directions, because Leia was here somewhere. She wasn't captured; he thought she would resume communication through the Force in that case. She might be like Luke, hiking through the woods without a ride, stubbornly punishing him for using the Force to Influence, or- there had been that boom _-_ she might be-

He would know, wouldn't he? If she left- if she-

He refused to believe it. And he wouldn't entertain it. "We better look for her," he said determinedly, because there was nothing else to do. He'd made Han wait this long.

Han was pissed. Luke could read it in the square of his shoulders as he started to move through the woods in the direction Luke and Leia had run off. Luke didn't move yet, watching Han's angry back, too... something. Timid? reluctant? deserving? to take Han's anger. Some of the anger Luke probably did deserve, and he was chastising himself as they walked along. Some, though, he didn't.

Han was pissed at Luke for not staying with her, he was pissed at Leia for dashing off like that, he was pissed at himself for worrying so much and being so gods damned afraid. Pissed probably he was a general and shouldn't be hacking his way through some ferns after a shuttle crew member when he was supposed to be bringing those shields down.

"Come on R2," Luke sighed. "We'll need your scanners."

Han whirled around. "Can't you do something?" Skepticism, and a hope he needed but was too mistrusting to feel, was written on his face, "you two seem pretty attuned with each other."

Luke stopped again. Something in Han's voice. The recovery from the carbonite poisoning, trying to catch up, to take part again, and he couldn't rely on himself, particularly what he saw, but he'd been especially observant anyway.

"She cut me off," Luke said, starting to walk again.

"Cut you off?" There it was again- Han sneered it, but there was a familiarity in the question, like second skin to Luke- the way he asked, it was familiar to Han, too, he realized with a start- _Han knows_ \- but there was also hurt. That was the sneer. It was perceived rejection and jealousy. Exclusion.

Han knew. "Yeah." Luke stayed calm. "She was upset with me, back there, when I Influenced those Imps, and she- I can't feel her."

"What do you mean," Han pressed, "she cut you off. Maybe you can't feel her," he said, giving voice to fear, "because she-"

"Don't." Luke grabbed Han's sleeve. "I've got something to tell you. It's going to sound crazy but it's the truth. Just hear me out, okay?"

Han looked over at Chewie, who shrugged in a 'why not?' way. "Tell it while we're walking. Chewie- help R2 over the roots." He glared at Luke. "What?"

Luke nodded and dove in. "Did Leia ever tell you, how we left Bespin?"

Han didn't expect Luke's story to start there. "She said Lando helped. S'why I haven't shot him."

"Is that all she said?" Luke was mildly disappointed. Either she mistrusted, or didn't want to admit her Force connection with Luke. Maybe Han had been too sick to hear any details, and by the time he was ready the moment was passed, and it was time to think about the Death Star. "I wasn't with her at first. I got waylaid by Vader." Luke paused a moment, then said, "I called her. And she heard me."

"You mean comm'd?"

"No. Called. Through the Force."

They came to a large tree and Han went around it in the opposite direction than Luke did. When they rejoined, Han was shaking his head, his mouth half up in a disbelieving quirk. "Shit, kid- this-"

"I'm calling your name now, Han, through the Force. Do you hear me?"

Han's eyes slid to the side, and Luke was pleased he was taking Luke seriously. "What am I supposed to hear?"

"Me. In your head. Saying your name."

Han shook his head. "I don't hear anything."

"Right. You can't. But Leia did."

"You're sayin' she's-"

"She's Force-sensitive, Han."

"Fuck- Luke, how can that be?"

"Well," Luke didn't think Han wanted him to launch into an explanation of the Force. "It happens in beings. Like blue eyes or green. Maybe there's a gene for it. You know," he added, suddenly astonished, "I've never heard anyone in the Force talk like that."

Han grunted. "Just how many have you talked to?"

Luke smiled. "Two. Or three. But no one's ever said that."

"Said what?"

"That there could be a very physical reason for the Force. Ben and Yoda- that's the master I found on Dagobah-"

"I remember."

"Right." Luke glanced at Han appreciatively, glad the night in the snow shelter had left an impression on him, too. "They always have treated it as a mystical, spiritual thing. You thought that, too."

"Just what I heard," Han allowed sullenly. "Jedi were monks."

"But I most likely inherited it, right? Because I know my father had been a Jedi."

"So you're sayin' Leia-"

"She doesn't really know for sure. So don't say anything. I want it to come from me. But how would you know? And don't lie and say you have no idea what I'm talking about," Luke warned. "I know you do."

Han shrugged uncomfortably. "It was a guess. Stuff she's said. That she could tell somethin' was botherin' you. That it was 'inside' you."

"So you believe in it?"

"The Force?" Han squeezed his upper arm with the opposite hand. "Not the-" he stopped a moment, then continued. "Not the monk stuff. You." He shrugged. "Whatever. I see you; I believe you."

"And Leia."

"You really spooked her with that Vader talk." Han picked up a small twig and tossed it out of the way.

"What Vader talk?"

Han lifted his hands by his hears and spoke like a voice from beyond, "Vader knows I'm here," he mimicked Luke's earlier proclamation.

Chewie interrupted them with a sharp bark. "I found something."

Luke and Han hastened over. "What is it?"

"These leaves are charred," Chewie pointed to a groundcover. In one area the leaves were browned at the edges, nearby they were flattened and trampled. Luke moved his own foot and saw he got the same result. Someone had stepped here.

"Afterburns from a speeder," Han said knowingly.

"We're close, then," Luke said, an improbable relief making his heart thump. "Good eyes, Chewie. She went on ahead."

They split up. Luke discovered a wreckage, and the body of the trooper he'd thrown off the speeder. He heard sunshine, Han's heart beating like a drum. But no sense of Leia.

More wreckage. _Boom,_ Luke thought fearfully, and came across a helmet. Shallow, charcoal gray, just like the one he'd been wearing. _Leia? Leia! Answer me!_ But it was Han who shouted his name and he followed the sound of his voice.

Han had found wreckage, too. He was standing over it, terrified and proud and pissed.

"I found this," Luke said, tossing the helmet over as if it could console him.

"I'm afraid," C-3PO began tentatively, "that R2's sensors can find no trace of Princess Leia."

Han swallowed, and looked at Luke, and everything shed from him, all the unnecessary things, the anger, and resentment. His face got- soft. It was still Han, with the scar and the crooked nose, that angular profile, but new. Soft, and- and tender, Luke would say, or open, like a door; there was no blame, just worry; worry and love. And fear. Han had spent most of his life trying not to be afraid, denying it, refusing it, and it had lent a certain hardness to his features, a dangerous glint to his eyes. Now it drained him of color, his face pale; his eyes were like the dappled sunshine peeking from behind green leaves, and he was very whole, very real. "I hope she's alright," he said solemnly.

Luke nodded, solemn as well. If she wasn't, what would they do? "Me, too."

"Let's go back to where you found this helmet. There was no-" Han had to swallow again- "no body, right? Maybe Chewie can track her."

"Good idea." Luke led him back to where he had picked the helmet off the forest floor, under a thick log.

"You said you had to call her?" Han continued their conversation, getting on his knees to peer under the log. "Why? What happened to you?"

"Oh," Luke tried to sound casual, "I was clinging to an antenna."

"Figures," Han said dryly. He reached under the log, and his voice got muffled by dirt and leaves. Luke remembered mixing brown. Afer the magic of learning green and purple, he'd tried to see what other new colors he could make. He'd succeeded with orange, adding yellow to red, but a little bit of green and it was a muddle. Brown. He'd been disappointed.

"You know what?" Han added, voice sly. He pulled out his arm, displaying what he'd found significantly. "I think Her Whiteness is just fine."

It wasn't a piece of wreckage, from what Luke could tell. Nor did it look like a piece of helmet broken off. Luke stepped forward, and took the object from Han. "A ration bar," he breathed. There was a nibble out of it. He met Han's eyes, and they both grinned goofily.

There was a noticeable spring in Han's step as they waited for Chewie to get a whiff of Leia and track her. "This is just like us on the Death Star, when we thought we were rescuing a Princess," he told Luke.

"Only we needed her as much as she needed us," Luke finished.

"Right. So we might think we're rescuing Leia right now-"

"But it's us that's going to need rescuing," Luke came to the same conclusion with a smile.

Chewie led them around the log. "She really hates Vader, huh," Luke commented, keeping his tone mild.

"Yeah. More than the Emperor maybe."

"Why do you think that?"

"She thinks he doesn't think for himself. It's Palpatine's politics, and his war; Vader does what he's told."

"She may be right about that," Luke said.

"And she thinks he's not very good at his job."

"What?" Luke exclaimed in surprise. He laughed a little. He could picture the tiny Princess giving evil Lord Vader a scathing job performance review

"He didn't get the plans from her. And apparently, he left you clinging to an antenna. Shoulda been easy to kill you, from that position."

Luke smiled at Han's observation. "He didn't want to kill me. I was supposed to be brought to the Emperor."

Han was unfazed. "He failed at that, too."

"What do you think of him?" Luke asked, curious. Leia's opinion seemed to have some merit, he thought. Vader seemed to do enough, enough to keep the Emperor satisfied, but there also seemed to be a passive aggressive attitude at play. What mattered to the Emperor, Vader would do. If it happened to matter to Vader as well, he failed to come through.

They came across a young tree, with a branch broken off, the wood yellow and fresh. Chewie waved it at them excitedly.

"We're right behind you, Chewie," Han waved.

"Do you hate him?" Luke prodded, refusing to let Han sidestep his question. "For what he did to you?"

Han laughed shortly. "For capturing us? For puttin' me on the grid?"

"Yeah."

Han shrugged again. "He was just doing his job. However badly," he said snidely, then added, "Not gonna take it personally."

"He used you to get me, you know."

"Then you should take it personally."

"I do," Luke said gravely.

"Wait," Chewie broke in. He started to walk away, following something.

"What, Chewie?" Han said.

"I smell something."

"What?" Han started to follow after his copilot.

Chewie was preoccupied. "Something. Something alive, anyway. Or blood. Something that bleeds." He kept walking on. "It could be the Princess, eh? If she were in a wreck, and is hurt, perhaps I smell-"

"Chewie, what!" Han demanded. Luke followed, helping the droids once again. He was puzzled, for he couldn't sense anythingat all. If it were Leia...

"I don't get it," he heard Han say. "It's just a dead animal, Chewie."

Luke caught up to where the others had stopped. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. He'd thought maybe an animal, a mammal or reptile, on the ground, dead from old age or injuries. It _was_ a dead animal - a somewhat large, tawny furred thing. It was hard to know how large it was, or what it looked like alive, or even how many legs it had, because it had been butchered, sort of, or hacked in a large piece, and it was hanging from a low branch, tied by a crude rope. "I've been all over these woods," Luke said. "I haven't seen any animal."

"This isn't how the Imps serve dinner, kid," Han said.

Chewie reached up to touch it. "It's fresh. No flies. Smells good, too."

"No, wait!" Luke shouted, lunging forward to stop the Wookiee. Understanding came a moment too late. It was a snare. A trap. Just because he hadn't seen any animals didn't mean there weren't any.

The rope jumped away from Chewie's hand and the low branch snapped up. There was a whipping noise, something gathered around them all, surrounding them, bundling them all up together. Luke's feet left the ground on their own and he felt folded, squeezed. He heard Han mutter to Chewie, his voice close, and he felt the hard metal exterior of R2, so he gathered they'd all been caught up together. They spun idly in a circle. Luke wrested his face free from C-3PO's arm and pressed it against the rope. It was vines, actually, thick ones, woven into a mesh net. They were suspended very high off the ground.

"We got caught by a level 2," Luke said.

"I was kinda hopin' this was Leia's handiwork," Han said, a sad optimism in his voice.

Luke had to smile, though it made him sad, too. "I wouldn't put it past her to do something like this."

"I should have known better," Chewie said mournfully.

"Let's figure a way out of this thing," Luke said. "Han, can you reach my lightsaber?"

"Sure." Luke felt the mesh stretch as Han pulled on a vine, trying to crawl himself closer to Luke. It wasn't the best of plans; only the first thing that had come to his mind, and Luke was trying to come up with alternatives.

"Whoever set the trap will come to check on it," Chewie said.

"We don't have that kind of time," Han said.

Luke heard a buzzing noise. He hoped it wasn't his lightsaber. If Han accidentally activated it- "Han-"

The bottom dropped out and they all fell, arms and legs flapping and useless. Luke sat up with a groan, and noticed R2 retracting his wire cutters. "Nice work, R2," he complimented the astromech. "You saved us again."

Han, on his back but propped up on his elbows, cut him off with a wave of his hand and gestured at the ferns in front of him. They were moving. Everything was moving, in fact: ferns and branches, feathers and teeth. Luke did a double take. Teeth?

A little creature stood before them, more behind and around. So many, Luke thought. How did he not know they were there? How did he not sense them?

"Like little Wookiees," Chewie marveled, and the beings erupted in a chatter, pointing sharpened sticks at their chests.

The lead one, with dark fur and white stripes, wearing teeth in a head dress and around his neck, spoke. Several answered, and Luke had the feeling they were arguing about something.

These must be Ewoks. Short; shorter than Leia probably, with stocky, round bodies. Their appearance from individual to individual varied greatly in coloring and markings. Their eyes glittered above active snouts, and they had sharp little teeth. Carnivores, Luke realized. Each wore a headpiece. Some were more elaborate, decorated or woven from fibers, others were simple hoods that went down to the chest, made of leathered animal skins. Some carried spears, sharpened sticks whittled to a lethal-looking point, and brandished them at the group trying to extricate themselves from the netting.

"I told you they would check on their trap," Chewie gloated.

Han shoved a spear away from his chest. "Point that thing somewhere else," he snarled.

He and Luke moved, trying to get up, and the spears got a little more insistent. Han, back to impatient and pissed and unafraid, had his blaster out. "Why you-"

"Han." Luke stopped him. "It'll be alright." He was fascinated by the Ewoks, how they moved in the forest so silently. In it, revealing themselves only when they wanted, a part of it. The Force swirled all about, from tree to creature, even to the teeth on top of the chief's head. They _knew_ something. "Chewie, give him your bowcaster." He looked around to see where 3PO had fallen. "Anyone see-"

"I didn't come here to be eaten," Chewie said unhappily.

"Isn't what was in the net big enough for them to eat?" Han asked. "What the hell else would they want to capture? Think it was for troopers?"

Luke thought about it. "I bet it was. They're invaders."

"Ha," Chewie chortled. "Another rebellion."

"A level 2 type," Luke said.

C-3PO took this opportune time to finally sit up. "Oh, my head," he said, as if he were recovering from a terrible hangover. Luke shook his head, marveling for the hundredth time at the personality of the droid. Han, Chewie, and he should be the ones groaning and miserable, not a droid.

But his sudden appearance caused a gasp of wonder among the Ewoks. They began to hum, prostrating themselves before him. And the droid understood the Ewok language.

"Told you the droids would come in handy," Luke congratulated himself to Han.

"It appears they think I am some sort of god," C-3PO translated.

R2 responded with a loud, disbelieving raspberry, and Luke hid his smile behind his hand.

"At least we're the invaders that brought the god," Han said.

"Safe a little longer," Chewie agreed. "We still might get eaten."

"Nah," Han argued. "They wouldn't touch the ones that bring the god. We're special, right?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "We look like the other invaders. Can you ask if they'd be willing to help us, 3PO? Or help you? Ask them if they've seen anyone else in the forest. Leia. They might tell you about the Empire, but tell them we're looking for our friend."

"Right," Han nodded at Luke. "We need to find Leia."

C-3PO consulted with the leader. "Master Luke," the droid told him in an overjoyed voice, "he says they will carry us to their village! He says the she-woks will be glad to see you, as- I am not certain what this means, sir- as the long-furred one-"

"Long-furred?" Han broke in.

"- I believe it is a title, General Solo, reserved perhaps for- well, it is not clear."

"Chewie? Are they talking about Chewie?" Han wanted to know. The Wookiee made an amused noise. "His fur's longer than theirs. Do they know anything or not?" Han asked. "We don't need to be carried." He cast an anxious glance over at the Ewoks. Some were hacking at vines and others were gathering long logs, all relatively the same size.

"They wish to treat me with honor, General Solo, and I have thanked them for the care they are giving you."

"Yeah, great. I feel so well cared for, surrounded by spears."

"It feels right," Luke told Han. "I think this will lead us to Leia."

"How do you figure that?"

"They know the forest. Look at how they got us. They're excellent hunters."

"As good as me," Chewie begrudged.

"You think they hunted Leia?"

The Ewoks brought over four long poles, cut from young trees. "Uh, I think they're chopping their forest down," Han observed.

One with a dyed hood over his head and openings cut for his ears unfurled some vine. They really were clever, Luke granted, for they lashed R2 to a pole before wrapping Luke's wrists in vine rope. 'Carried' to the village suddenly won a whole new meaning.

"They're building a chair for Goldenrod," Han sounded offended. "Look at it. A throne."

An Ewok with fur the color of Chewie gestured at Luke with a spear for him to lie on his back. He did as he was told, and felt his ankles being bound.

"3PO, tell them we'll walk," Luke suggested.

"Oh, no, Master Luke," C-3PO answered. "They have assured me they are returning to their village in style."

"Style?" Han echoed skeptically. "Are you sure you're translating that right? 'Cause I'm feeling a bit like prey."

Luke couldn't see what the Ewoks were doing to him, though he certainly felt his arms and legs lifted. There were too many standing around, so he turned his head and tried to peer between furry legs at what they were doing to Han.

They had gotten him to lie on his back as well, and were sliding one of the long poles through the top of the bindings that gathered Han's wrists and ankles. One Ewok was tying the vines at Han's feet into a complicated looking knot. Several lined up along the length of the pole and picked it up. Han's body sagged downward, and he tried to get his elbows over the pole to help support his weight.

Luke soon felt his own body lifted, and the vines cut off the circulation on his wrists. His body swayed a bit. The Ewoks were still chanting, though now it sounded more like singing.

"I can break the pole," Chewie stated. "Want me to?" Luke craned his head back and saw the Wookiee was being carried similarly, only more Ewoks were needed to bear his weight.

"Let's see what happens," Luke said.

Luke made himself relax against his binds, breathing deep and expanding his awareness out and beyond, into the timelessness of the Force. He felt safe, even though he was wrapped up as a prisoner, carried helpless through the forest. It had taken some time to build the throne and prepare the rope bindings, and the lighting had shifted in the forest. There were patches where under the canopy it was quite dark, but when he glimpsed the sky, it was bi-colored, the horizon a deep purple and the higher atmosphere a pale pink.

It didn't matter where they were going, only that they were heading toward Leia. She was going to have to know, he decided. Sooner, than later, in case- in case something happened, something went boom. And Luke might have to rush it. He had spooked her, he was sure Han was right. She'd touched Luke 'inside', found a safe haven, a place of unconditional love and gentle respect, because that was what inside Luke. That was him, for Leia. But then she'd seen how easily he invited Vader in, how he was willing to share that place inside, how easily he took those Imperial officers out of themselves, and she no longer felt so safe.

"Han, can you hear me?" he called softly.

Han craned his head back. "Yeah?"

First he had to make sure the mission was still a go. "You're a general."

"Tell me about it."

"What's going to happen with the strike? Did you get the team out of the crates?"

"Yeah. They're splitting up, spreading out through the forest. Trying to avoid the sector patrols. We're meeting at the ridge in the morning."

"I was thinking it's a nice night to camp." Luke hadn't seen the ridge, but he suspected it was high ground overlooking the bunker.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think we'll be spending the night with the Ewoks."

"Depends on their hospitality," Chewie put in. "I might take my chances in the trees."

"Han, I've got something to tell you," Luke said.

Han craned his head back again and spread his fingers out in a stretch. "I'm a captive audience," he said.

It wasn't a comfortable way to travel. But Luke felt safe among the Ewoks. He'd been romping around all afternoon, by himself and with Han, without a sense of them, yet they had known he was here and left him unmolested.

"I know why Vader is bad at his job," he said. The safeness he felt carried over to Han. It was the Bloodstripes, running up Han's long legs, parallel to the pole, and everything they symbolized. With Leia, he had a sense she let him talk about most anything, but if it were a subject that touched on her, then she might dance away with evasiveness and apprehension. He and Han had touched lightly on big things today. Han wasn't shying away from it; he just didn't need to go deeper. "He's my father."

Han tried to shimmy his ankles up the pole, as if to get to Luke, but the ropes held. "No he isn't," Han said immediately. "Not looking like that. He can't have kids, I'd bet you anything."

Luke smiled. "That's probably true." It was refreshing. Most who judged Vader's looks found him terrifying. Very few found him lacking. Just Leia and Han. "He had me before he became like he is."

Han brought his head back to rest properly on his neck. Luke wanted to know what he was thinking. Did he blame Luke, hate Luke? Had Luke made a mistake confiding in him? _I dance with Han,_ Leia had told her father in Luke's dream. He needed help with Leia, and Han was the best one to offer it.

He waited quietly, patiently. If he were wrong, and Han rejected Luke- but no, he wouldn't consider that. Luke had an idea Han saw himself at the bottom of the heap- deep under the browns, doing the dirty work. But that kind of work was transformative, for the things that used it. Han had never left the brown. Beings like Vader had.

"So, let me get this straight," Han started out, his head dropping back to see Luke. "If you turn to the dark side, you're evil..."

"That's one point of view," Luke said.

"... and powerful..."

"Yes."

"... and ugly?"

Luke had to laugh. "I think that was the result of Ben Kenobi. He tried to kill him. When my father turned, he..." It was hard to say outloud. Luke had to use a euphemism. "He ended the Jedi."

"He helped end a lot of things, kid."

"I know."

A crooked grin spread on Han's face. "Heh," he said. "I tried to kill him. I would have if I could."

Luke grinned sadly. "It would have been okay if you had."

"You serious?"

"Yeah. I've been resigned a long time that's probably how it has to end."

"But-" there was a frown in Han's voice, "if a blaster wouldn't do it-"

"Well, it probably could. He was ready then. But you're right. The Force has to be involved."

"A lightsaber."

"A Jedi."

"You."

Now Luke had a sardonic grin. "Do you see anybody else?"

"What about your master? Yoda?"

"He died," Luke said. "Of old age."

"Old age?" Han repeated. "That's convenient." He was quiet a moment. "So it's got to be you."

"I'm going to try."

"You can't try," Han said forcefully, surprising the hell out of Luke. "You either do it or you don't. Maybe we'll luck out, though. We just might succeed at blowing up the Death Star."

"It'll help," Luke said. "But Han, I know you and Leia are... well-"

"Antilles calls us an item," Han supplied helpfully.

Luke grinned. "You're more than an item. This is my story. And hers, how she intersects with me. So don't say anything, unless I..."

"Right. I won't."

"Thanks. Or Chewie. Do you think he heard us talking?"

Han shook his head. "He's probably asleep. Taking a nap. It's similar to how Wookiees sleep."

Luke didn't think Han was serious, but he craned his own head to see behind him. He saw Chewie's big furry feet crossed at the ankle and looking relaxed. Chewie's head was slung back. Luke couldn't see if his eyes were open. His berth aboard the _Falcon_ was a swinging hammock, though. Maybe he was asleep.

They must be nearing the end of their journey, and Luke was grateful. His neck was tired and the ropes were digging into his ankles and wrists. The singing turned into shouts, and ahead of them, C-3PO's voice floated towards them, "Oh my! Thank you! Thank you!" Luke heard drums.

The Ewoks stepped on a frame, and a signal was given with a horn, and Han and his escort of Ewoks were pulleyed upwards. Cheering erupted. Luke's turn was next.

Now he saw why he perhaps hadn't noticed the Ewoks in the forest. He hadn't looked up. They were very high off the ground. The Ewoks had fire, which was nice to see in the darkening light. There was a network of paths, lashed logs making a bridge, stretching from one tree to the next, for a great distance. They built structures, crude huts, completely out of wood and thatched with reeds or ferns.

Chewie, awake now and growling low in his throat, was next to emerge.

"Master Luke! Master Luke," C-3PO was waving his arms from his throne. "We have been brought to Bright Tree Village."

"I see that," Luke replied. He got a bit of a chill, for the drums the Ewoks used were obviously a recent innovation. They were hammering mallets on the helmets of stormtroopers.

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 _Luke dropped a few bomb shells, didn't he?_

 _Another thing, the purple color associated with Leia's Force signature: it's not a tribute to Mace Windu's purple lightsaber in the Prequel Trilogy, but rather a symbol for the color of royalty. Thought it was fitting.  
Thanks for reading! Please review. _


	40. Reunion

The Force was giving Luke a respite. That's what he figured at least. The Emperor was above this moon, waiting on the Death Star to finalize his plans with the dark side of the Force, and Luke had to do his part to free the galaxy of it, and the Skywalkers.

But here he was, tied to a pole, captive of cuddly-looking beings, who were also vicious, and he felt no urgency.

The Force had a sense of humor? Enjoy, it seemed to say. Enjoy while your droid becomes a god and your friends are eaten and your sister is missing. There'll be time enough for the heavy stuff.

So fine. Yoda had his hooting laugh, and Ben was so droll, and Luke thought he was not exactly without humor. All in good time, he told himself. He would get to the Death Star, and the Emperor. He would find Leia, because even though she wanted nothing to do with the Force right now, they would confront that together.

This wasn't heavy stuff, though? It was so ridiculous it was funny? He looked over at Chewie, who was situated so close to him that the long fur of his arm was tickling Luke's wrists. The Wookiee was placid, probably in a way that only centuries of life can bring, and he was observing the Ewoks with an amused eye. They were as high as a Wookiee's knee cap, and they were stout and stiff-jointed where a Wookiee was muscular and lithe. Both tree dwellers, but they could not be more opposite from each other.

Han was wriggling his wrists, trying to free himself of the vines, and Luke sensed from him more frustration than fear, like he had better things to do than be roasted.

Luke could imagine the history texts. _The Galactic Empire owes its continued existence to the failure of the shuttle crew on the moon of Endor, who were captured and eaten by Ewoks._ It was the meat of comedy, Luke thought. Funny stuff.

"What do you think?" he said to Han and Chewie.

"I think Goldenrod is useless," Han said swiftly. "I think he likes being a god."

"Even though his programming prohibits it," Chewie added.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he resigns as your protocol droid," Han said.

Chewie grunted. Luke had the feeling the Wookiee was biding his time, whether waiting for Luke to do something with the Force, or for Han to give him an order. "Dear Master Luke," he recited an imaginary letter, "since I have become an Ewok god, I no longer wish to serve in human cyborg relations as your protocol droid."

"You should accept his resignation," Han decided.

"What are you two, a comedy team?" Luke, secretly amused, asked. "I don't see you working out a solution."

"You either, Junior. It's kinda hard when you can't move."

"Should we just let the Ewoks work it out for us?"

"No, I think they're gonna light the fire soon. Leia will do it." Han sounded confident.

"You think so?" Luke said, surprised.

"She'll swing in on a vine," Chewie said.

Han smiled at that. "Aren't we going by you?" he said to Luke. "You said you thought they'd lead us to her. And she doesn't appear to be on the menu."

"Luckily for her," Chewie added.

"What will the Ewoks do when they find out he is just a machine? Motherboard and wires?" Chewie wondered.

"Maybe they'll eat him, too," Han said.

Luke felt badly he couldn't assure Han or Chewie about Leia, but they didn't seem to need his assurance. Maybe he needed theirs. They had faith in her. Like the Ewoks had faith in C-3PO. And Luke had faith in the Force.

"I doubt he'll keep his secret long," Chewie continued. "These little creatures are not stupid. He should fess up soon, or he'll become a drum." Chewie tossed his head in the direction where three Ewoks were hammering mallets on stormtrooper helmets.

Luke found his eyes sliding towards Han and he felt an icy grip on his insides. But Han wasn't thinking on the same line at all. He and Chewie were discussing what might be inside the helmets.

Luke had told Han a secret, one he'd harbored for a while. The same secret Yoda and Ben worked very hard to keep Luke from discovering. One that was eating him up inside; one he was afraid to let out. He feared rejection, revulsion. He feared the shame he didn't want would become real, permanent. He feared change, and loss.

He feared Darth Luke would wander alone- always in a desert, interestingly enough- but Darth Luke, one handed son of evil, would be cast out, or his evil would contaminate all.

But nothing had happened. He'd told Han, "Darth Vader is my father," and Han- well, Luke didn't know what he thought. But he hadn't screamed at him to go away, he hadn't whipped out his blaster and did to Luke what he'd tried to do to Vader on Cloud City. He was still talking to Luke, about silly things even. A droid's resignation. Everyone knew there was no such thing.

"Leia's gonna have to find us, huh kid," Han broke into his thoughts in an almost whisper. The Ewoks had suddenly grown still and quiet. "You still- you don't sense her?"

"No." Luke shook his head dolefully. An Ewok was speaking, perhaps a prayer. The language sounded earthy. Like leaves falling. "She's still not letting me."

"Because of – you know- Vader?"

"No, I didn't tell her that yet."

"Oh." Han seemed to digest that a moment. "How long have you known?"

"A while."

"Oh," Han said again. "How come?"

"How come what?"

"How come you didn't tell her? You've known since… since I've been earning my disorder?"

Luke smiled in spite of himself. Han- physically proud, controlled, who didn't like weakness- didn't see being sick as weak. "Yeah."

"You need to tell her."

"I will," Luke nodded. He didn't think it would be so hard anymore. "I was scared."

"Of Leia?" Han sounded astonished. "You two have always been tight. It's me that needed to be scared of her. Sometimes."

"Do you think, because of everything Vader did, she'll- That's why I was scared."

"Oh. I get it. But you know, Leia's a princess. She's a whole lot smarter than you-"

"Thanks."

"- I mean a broader perspective. From being a Princess. You know. She don't equate someone else's motivations with, with-"

"With blood? Organas were generations of leaders. You don't think she'll transfer the idea of evil from generation to generation?"

"Oh, here comes the fire," Han observed, watching the Ewoks. "No. I don't know, kid. Only one way to find out."

They both paused in their conversation to see what the Ewoks were going to do with the torches they carried.

Luke wondered how the Ewoks used fire and managed to not set the whole forest in flames. The torch was a long piece of wood, around the top of which was wrapped still-green ferns and rushes. They had a wet, greasy look, as if they'd been soaked in something. Probably rendered animal fat, Luke realized. That was the fuel, not wood.

"Yoda wanted me to pass on what I know," he resumed speaking with Han.

"Is he the one who told you?"

"No, actually. Vader did."

"Oh," Han said for a third time. It was kind of endearing, like he kept getting surprised, or he needed to stall for time. "Did he know?"

"He did. Ben did, too."

"He did?" Now Han was surprised. "Seems like something he could have said, don't you think? Didn't you know him all your life?"

"Well- not really. I saw him a lot. Didn't really have a chance to talk much to him." Luke laughed to himself. "I think my uncle tried to keep me from him."

"Maybe he thought if you knew, you'd try and run off and be with your real father."

"I might have, at that," Luke realized. "Anything was better than moisture farming, you know?"

Han shook his head sardonically.

"But, when it was clear, when there was no going back," Luke continued thoughtfully, "yeah. Ben owed me the truth."

"Too bad he couldn't introduce you as Vader was killing him."

"You really have poor taste, you know that?" Luke said, a little amazed at Han's lack of tact.

Unfazed, Han was smiling. "It's why you could tell me when you couldn't tell Leia."

Luke didn't answer. But maybe Han was right. Because to have Darth Vader as a father was also in very bad taste. _Did I just joke?_ Luke asked himself. He should run down and take a mallet from an Ewok and rattle out a crashing bang to signal everyone in on the joke in case they missed it.

Man, but did the Force have an ironic sense of humor.

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"Welcome the sky, welcome the sun. Who brings us the seeds, the soil, who grows us. Who watches over us, waters us, blows the breeze," C-3PO translated as a more torches were set in the ground to brighten the darkening sky.

"Odd little creatures, these Ewoks," Chewie observed.

"You should talk," Han muttered back, watching them with heightened wariness.

"They're not climbers," Chewie observed.

Interested, Luke asked, "What makes you say that?"

Had the time come to do something? Use the Force to change their predicament? Surely, it was becoming more serious now. But still, he felt a lack of urgency. He decided to wait it out. Sometimes just talking gave one an answer.

Chewie nodded his head downward, indicating the fire pit suspended between the trees and below that the forest floor. "Why build this? Did the ground need a ceiling? Did the space between trees need a floor?"

"I hadn't thought about that," Luke admitted.

"They can't stay in a tree. No claws," Chewie continued. "Their bodies are too stiff and short to get up in these branches. So they build a boardwalk, and walk, just like they used to do down there."

"I saw a few swing from vines," Luke observed.

"They make gliders, too," Han added. "That one there," he tossed his head toward a skull-topped Ewok, "came in on one."

"Something made them take to the trees," Chewie insisted.

"The Empire?" Luke ventured.

Chewie shook his shaggy mane. "Too recent. This village has been here a long time.""

"And why are they gonna eat us?" Han asked.

"You mean why is Golden God letting them eat us," Chewie corrected.

"Golden God. That's good, Chewie," Luke complimented, recognizing humor. Let the Force play. Let them all play, if just for a moment. It would be one of those moments that made one laugh just as one fell asleep, recalling something ridiculous but true. Luke found that about the garbage masher. He didn't know why, but sometimes as his body settled down for a night, he would replay things they said in there. He remembered being close to terrified, and yet now it made him smile. Hindsight- was humor hindsight? Was it a Force Maybe? One not selected? One-

"3PO can't eat," Han continued, reminding Luke he was supposed to stay in the moment, find humor. "That should be obvious even to these little fur balls. And if gods provide the picnic, it's usually not their servant that gets eaten."

"Maybe they are hungry," Chewie suggested.

"Could be," Luke answered. "We didn't see much wildlife. Maybe the Empire's arrival caused something to upset the balance of the forest."

"I bet they ate those stormtroopers," Han said.

"In thanks for your visit," the Ewok said through C-3PO. "In thanks for your sentry. In thanks to the long-furred one, who has delivered the new history. We will protect you as you protect us. Those that drain color stand out from the green. The spear shall find them."

This drew a strong response from the audience. Those that carried spears thumped them up and down on the logs.

"I still wonder what they mean by long-furred one," Han said. "They mentioned that before. I don't see anything, do you?"

Luke looked around. There were a lot of young. Cubs. Their fur was shorter than their parents, a fuzzy covering. The very young were dependent on the parents, it seemed. They were kept in baskets. Luke's lip pouted a moment, for he was reminded of Lucky, and all the care he and Han, and the base really, had provided for the baby tauntaun, and how rewarding it had been.

The Ewok was talking again, and had a power over the crowd. They stilled, respective of him as a leader, and his voice carried down to the firepit.

What made a leader, Luke wondered. What had this particular Ewok done to give him this role today?

Luke noticed he was one of the lighter colored Ewoks- tan, with dark stripes. Maybe leadership was granted to those of a certain color.

A headpiece indicated his status. It was much more elaborate than the ones other Ewoks wore. Those were made of simple dyed woven fabric or animal skins. This one wore a skull. The bill protruded past his brow, like a visor, indicating that it might have been a bird, and feathers rose out the back of the headpiece.

But- which? Was the skull a symbol of the office, passed from leader to leader? Or had this Ewok demonstrated skill and prowess in a hunt, and that decided him as a leader.

Was he wise, was he old? Or was he chosen?

Leia was a leader, Luke reflected. Born into the role. Well, almost. Sometimes he forgot she was his sister. Chosen for the role, then, and treated as if it were her family's right. There had been many like her, a long history of Organa monarchs. She could be a good leader or bad; birthright negated the question of how; she just was.

And Han was a leader, but risen to the role. He only recently held a title, but he'd always been, Luke thought back, starting from the moment in the detention center when he decided how best to enact Luke's plan to rescue a princess. The way he led, too, was different than Leia. Where she commanded, _from now on, you'll do as I say,_ Han asked, suggested. _Come on buddy, we're not out of this yet._

Darth Vader waited in the shadows, planning, scheming. _Together, we can overthrow the Emperor..._ A very dangerous man. Not a leader yet. Had he ever been? Ben was a general; Anakin, his partner, was merely a cunning warrior, a good friend.

Leadership was observed, rewarded. Apparently not for Anakin Skywalker.

His thoughts were interrupted by more talking, and C-3PO responding in their language, sounding rather displeased.

"What did he say?" Han called out.

"I'm afraid, General Solo, you are to be enjoyed as the main course at a banquet in my honor," C-3PO replied.

"We already figured that," Chewie howled.

But Luke was distracted. He'd caught movement out of the corner of his eye, something quick-moving. A number of Ewoks turned at the disruption and held their spears in front of them, barring passage.

The Force was a leader, too, but like a god, Luke thought. The Ewoks looked to 3PO with unquestioning devotion, and it appeared Luke did the same with the Force. He followed it. It was larger than he was, mysterious, and it showed him he could follow numerous paths, and it would always be there; but the right way, the wrong way- that was up to him. For a moment, he glimpsed the all of it, the ebb and flow.

No wonder it played once in a while. He would too.

He had followed it here, and he knew why. "Leia!" he called out in happy relief.

He'd been right. The Force took a moment to play but it led him here just the same. Leia was here, safe and whole. He felt- mushy inside, sentimental. Seeing her overwhelmed him even more than when he first viewed her holomessage. The grace with which she carried herself, the loveliness of her whole person, and she was his sister!

They'd granted her some kind of status. Of course they had, Luke thought.

He was still a little snide about that, two babies separated at birth and one became a princess while the other was a farmer.

She had no head covering, but maybe because her hair was so long, or maybe what she wore as a dress used to be a head covering and they were disturbed by hairless legs and arms. Who knew? They weren't going to eat her, though. Maybe she just hadn't been stupid enough to get caught in a trap, Luke thought.

"She's the long-furred one," Han said admiringly.

The Ewoks, though they held spears before her now, seemed to have taken good care of her. She had emerged from one of the huts. Her hair was down, brushed- beautiful, Luke thought. He'd never seen it down. She looked clean, and despite the sight of Luke, Han and Chewie tied up to be roasted, she was calm.

Leia spread her palms, looking among the males. "But these are my friends," she urged them. "3PO, tell them they must be set free."

"Try telling them you're not hungry," Chewie suggested.

Han looked like he could crawl on his back still attached to his pole to get to her.

Things were coming to a head, Luke thought. The Ewoks paid no attention to Leia's protests. Apparently, her status as the long-furred friend was way below that of 3PO's as a god. Fire sticks were brought to the pit, and Han, left with nothing but his mouth to defend himself, was trying to blow them out. Either that, or his idea was to set the whole forest on fire, which admittedly would also distract the hungry Ewoks, but not improve their situation any.

Finally, it was time to act. "3PO," Luke said. "Tell them if they don't do as you wish, you'll become angry, and use your magic."

"But Master Luke," 3PO said distressedly, "I have no magic."

It was time for a demonstration of the Force. It would only be whirling his protocol droid around high in the air on his throne, nothing too fancy, but it was the Ewoks he needed to impress. Luke closed his eyes, and smiling fondly at the panicked hoots of his droid, who was calling for R2 to rescue him, lifted him with the Force, throne and all, into the air. He made sure all the Ewoks saw, and sailed 3PO this way and that, slowly and carefully. He didn't want the droid to stand and step off. Through his closed eyes, he felt the orange flames leave and the air under him cool. He wondered whether Han was looking on, and what he thought, for it was the first time Han had really seen him use the Force. He hadn't been in much condition during his rescue to notice anything.

There was the heavy thud of many feet as Ewoks ran away, shrieking. The elder's voice rose above the din, trying to calm the crowd, and Luke felt his demonstration had been effective. He lowered 3PO to the ground.

The Ewoks had the fear of a god put in them, and were listening to 3PO's demands that something else be served for the banquet. Luke's ankle restraints were loosened and his legs dropped heavily to the ground. Han's mind apparently was not on Luke or the Force at all, for as soon as he was free he dashed over to Leia, and Luke was glad no spears prevented him from grabbing her in a spinning hug and kissing her. The Ewoks broke into a discussion- not unlike Hoth Base whenever Han and Leia interacted with each other, Luke remembered wryly- and seemed to approve. Like leadership, love was something understood by all who witnessed it.

Han was too happy to be reunited with Leia to think about the Force. But it didn't matter, Luke decided. Han would probably never mention Luke's use of the Force. Because to Han, it wasn't Luke using the Force, it was just Luke being Luke.

It was one of those rare moments he felt truly positive about who he was, Luke Skywalker, son of Darth Vader. He didn't think he'd ever had received that type of validation before. From his father, from Leia, there had always been an underlying fear he harbored about himself and his nature.

He felt warm, and even kind of mischievous, and ran over and inserted himself between Han and Leia, just to tease Han. Soon enough, Han would learn Leia was Luke's sister, and Luke had all intentions of pestering them. Was that the purpose of being tied to a pole? So the Force could remind him it was okay to add levity?

"3PO," Luke ordered. "Tell them we need a place to talk."

"Yes, Master Luke," 3PO answered, and spoke to the lead Ewok again. Soon, a young Ewok approached and took Leia's hand. Luke judged him as a cub, because his brown head covering went down to his chest instead of stopping at the throat. Leia followed him easily and he opened a panel and gestured for them to step inside.

It was dark, and soon the little Ewok appeared again, this time carrying a torch. Dim light cast a large shadow over the interior. They were inside a tree trunk, Luke realized. One that had died or was dying, and the Ewoks hollowed it out with flame and their sharpened sticks or bone. Their carpentry was simple and crude. Large stumps served as stools or tables, and there were sections cut into the trunk for an Ewok-sized being to curl up and use as a bed or chair.

Chewie wandered around, rubbing his hand on the wood, but Luke, Han and Leia pulled stumps close to one another, and starting talking all at once.

"What happened to you?" Han asked Leia. Their knees touched and Leia grabbed his hands.

"We've been looking all over for you," Luke added.

Leia acknowledged their concern with a nod. "I took a bad fall from the speeder. Next thing I know, I was being poked in the leg with a sharp stick by that little one," she pointed at their young host. "I call him Wicket. It's the first sound I recognized as a word. I'll have to ask 3PO what it means. What happened to you?"

Han and Luke exchanged sheepish glances, not wanting to admit they'd been captured.

"Chewie tracked you," Han said, which was mostly honest. "And bumped us into a hunting trap."

Leia looked around, as if taking a mental count, or suddenly remembering more than just Han and Luke and Chewie had arrived on the moon. She stood up. "What's going on with the strike?" she asked. "Where are the others? What's the pl-"

Han pulled her back down. "Easy, Your Whiteness. You haven't missed anything. It's all set for the morning. What happened?" he asked again. "Did they name you Princess of the Ewoks?" he gestured over her clothing. "They were gonna eat us. How come you got a fashion designer?"

Now Leia looked almost shy. It was made her a great leader, Luke thought. She didn't use any office for special treatment. "Oh," she tried to downplay her attire, cheeks blushing charmingly. "Wicket and I almost got captured. He smelled troopers. One took a sniper shot at us, and the other crept up from behind. We worked together on getting away."

"They call you the long-furred one," Han told her.

She smiled. "I got the impression they think our war is human males against females, since I'm the first female they've seen, and I helped kill two men. So they brought me to-" she gestured out the plank door- "the females. They have a work hut. They make those head coverings, and weave baskets for the young. There's a nursery. They had this on the loom," she looked down at her lap, "and made it bigger to fit me. They stitched the seam while I wore it." She spread her hands again. "Fits pretty good, doesn't it?"

"Goldenrod said something 'bout the long-furred delivering- what was it?" Han looked from Chewie to Luke.

"A new history," Chewie confirmed from where he was still exploring the hut.

"Yeah, I didn't get that."

"War," Luke concluded. "Leia's buddy, Wicket- he's a young Ewok. And the Empire almost killed him. The young are the future."

"History's the past."

"Not when it's not written yet. The Ewoks didn't know this-" Luke waved his hand, meaning recent events, the Empire and the loss of their land- "was in their future. And she helped save his life, or he hers, so events are joined." He turned to Leia. "They honored you."

She nodded. "We may get some much better reconnaissance from the Ewoks than we've received so far. I'm hopeful we'll be allies."

"They said something about color," Chewie prompted. "A draining of color. That's how Golden God translated it. I thought that was interesting. To a Wookiee, green would drain and turn brown. But brown isn't bad- and if you look at the Ewoks and the thatching and their head coverings, they don't mean brown."

The four looked at each other. Han shrugged. "Night?" he guessed. "Dark sky and you can't see any color?"

Luke didn't think this was close to the mark, and neither did anyone else. They made no comment and Luke got up and stood at the plank entrance, observing the forest.

Chewie was right. It was green, and brown. The blue, or black of the sky, the scattering of colors. Ewoks with headpieces yellow and green and red. Gold was brand new to them. That's why 3PO was a god. Tanned hides of animals, changed to a suede; soft and light, covering beds, bowls, drums. Drums!

"White," Luke said with clarity. "The Empire. The stormtroopers, who wear white, cut the trees down." Luke returned to the stump seat. The others nodded at him solemnly.

Leia grabbed Han's hand again, and this time Luke's with it. She still wasn't letting him in with the Force, but she said, "I'm so glad you're here. I was feeling a bit frantic. I was worried about the Empire. About them finding the Ewoks, because of us. What if, instead of just tearing trees down, they attack the village?"

Leadership, Luke saw, was being afraid, but also caring enough about others that it superseded the fear.

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The Force was done playing. It was at work again, and a sense of urgency was building; it was time to turn one's attention to the matters at hand.

The Force gave him that; slowed time, and Luke was pulled outward, beyond the moon.

He preferred the moon, with its trees and the strange little Ewoks. He preferred Han and Chewie, and Leia of course, his sister.

It was warm here, and complete. The ground had been solid under his feet. The air was fresh, real. Ewoks turned a spit over a fire, and Luke was grateful for it. It smelled wonderful.

There was music and faith here, love and worry.

Complete. The Ewoks were a community. Mothers and fathers and warriors and crafters. They had drums and horns, gliders and spears. Baskets woven from the needle-like leaves for the young. Colors taken from the forest, given by the trees: red, browns, yellow and green.

If he were to leave the moon, and travel to the Death Star, he would find something still unfinished. His father was there, seeking to cement Luke's lineage; make him his father's son. He would find an Emperor and his army, and that was all. Power. Empty and echoing.

There was death here too, but it was different. It was in a constant state of renewal. Like Yoda, the way he let the Force absorb him- the trees, when they died, were hollowed out by flame and sharpened stick, and Ewoks lived within. The harvest might turn a green leaf brown, but it burned, or thatched, and sheltered or fed. Death was not an end here. There was no life or death, there was only what was constant.

The Empire had come, and brought- not death, Luke considered, and not really an end, either but- disposal. They just got rid of things in their way. Like the trees that had to come down to put up the landing pad. Like Alderaan.

Much worse than death, wasn't it? At least in death, like what Luke saw here, it mattered. It went to something else. Death had purpose.

The Empire wasted.

A death with meaning, Luke reflected as he watched a torch flicker. He was going to have to think about that some more. He wondered if he could apply that to Owen and Beru, Lucky even, or had the Empire taken over much more of the galaxy than just governing and politics? Was the Empire creating a new pattern of life and death?

 _Luke._

Luke blinked. A little panicked, his gaze sought Leia's, but he didn't want to alarm her again. He just wanted to know she was safe.

 _Father,_ he dared answer.

Wicket now held Han's hand, and Leia followed behind, gently amused.

 _Leave,_ Luke told his father. He'd said it before, go away, barring contact; rude and afraid, but now he thought he might be trying to save his father's life.

Han was examining a glider. Wicket seemed to want to see Han fly in it, but it was too small. Han held it at Leia's back, testing the fit. They were laughing.

 _I am waiting for you,_ Vader told Luke.

Desperately, Luke drank in the vision of his sister. This was for her, he reminded himself. It was all for her. He owed her everything. Even his father.

 _The Emperor has foreseen it._

 _Don't you see?_ Luke answered his father. _If he gets me what need has he for you?_

Now Han walked behind Leia, and as if pulled by an irresistible force, he slowly collected the ends of her hair in his hand, so gently she didn't even notice.

 _Join me, and we will lead the galaxy_ , Vader thought to him.

Luke pressed his lips together. He had heard that before. It was not a satisfactory solution. _Join me_ , he suggested instead, surprising himself.

Luke, by nature, was an outgoing sort. He'd been very open about his struggles in learning the Force, bringing his worries and concerns and ideas to Leia or Yoda. But Vader's revelation weighed on him a bit, and caused him to become more introspective.

It hadn't gotten him any answers. He still didn't really know _why_ Vader had turned. And sometimes the question drifted through his mind, if he were like his father, if whatever caused him to turn was latent in Luke, waiting for the right moment. But- had Vader ever wondered if he were like his son? That instead of making his son fall to the dark side, could he rejoin the light?

A horn blew, signaling the meal, and Luke went to take his place beside Han and Leia.


	41. Smoke

Smokey torchlight flickered around from inside the tree trunk, catching C-3PO's metal parts with every gesture, glinting brightly. The air was warm, sated; it still smelled like dinner.

Smoke seeped into Luke's clothing, his hair; even his thoughts were rambling. Not a thought process at all- just impressions and emotions. His sense of time was all muddled, stirred. Things long sunk to the bottom resurfaced with a freshness that was almost painful. The urgency he felt earlier was still with him, but it drew him backwards, away. _Settle it,_ it seemed to say, but did it mean Vader anymore?

For the Ewoks it was a festive occasion. Their sun god descended from the sky. What if the sun god were here to collect them all, though, Luke wondered morosely, mark the end of the Ewoks.

Something about being here, where it was mild and green- he didn't know why, but he kept thinking of Beru and Owen. He had long memories, yellow, hot ones; they felt much more than nineteen years; and then, to have them cut off like that- it gave them an illusory aura, like he'd made them up.

The Ewok word for forest, he'd learned, was 'cha'ta', and it was derived from the word 'our'. It was kind of like the word for home, but he felt deeply it was more than that. It was all tree or wood, living and dead. The Ewoks were caretakers. It was the individual and the whole; one tree and a whole wood. And when he thought of that, a picture rose in his mind, of returning to Ben at the wrecked sandcrawler , the smoke of the Lars homestead fire in his clothes, and C-3PO was carrying dead Jawas and placing them on a fire Ben coaxed out of the wreckage.

The one and the all. The farm boy and the desert. He moved his eyes to Leia, because he always felt they were the same, even before he learned they were twins. The Princess and the planet.

Leia felt it too; the past was here, louder than it usually was. Luke was sure Leia was thinking the same, only from her experience. She saw what she couldn't have known: C-3PO again, trudging the sands of Tatooine, while the Princess who sent him off watched from the Death Star as her planet exploded.

Bird Skull- mentally Luke named the Ewoks by their markings- believed Leia delivered a new history, and it was true there was no going back.

Was she their hero, or their end? She was a Princess and a soldier, and she wanted to protect and she wanted to fight. Everything was in place for another Alderaan- the Death Star up above, a peaceful world below, and Luke noticed her hand shook a little as she brought a piece of meat to her mouth. Her eyes were everywhere, too; on the cubs, on Bird Skull, the she-woks, darting frantically.

Absently, Luke was about to pluck a dark orange berry dotted with purple seeds from a small log, hollowed out and rubbed smooth to become a bowl when he received a rough nudge.

"I wouldn't eat that," Han jolted Luke from his reverie. Luke glanced up to find Gray Fur waiting to serve him. The Ewok held the bowl and insisted, touching Luke's chest with it, just as one had touched Han's chest with a spear earlier. Han snatched the bowl and with a quick sweep of his eyes selected Wicket, touching the cub's chest with the wood. "There you go, Wicket," he encouraged. "Have a berry."

Wicket hugged the bowl to himself and waddled off. Luke's hand remained frozen in the air, watching Gray Fur apprehensively, hoping Han didn't cause another tribal insult. Gray Fur cocked his head back and forth several times, and then finally moved off to chase Wicket.

"D'ja notice that?" Han muttered to Luke. "If only we knew what a spear to the chest meant earlier."

"If only we'd been briefed on Ewok culture," Luke agreed. "We wouldn't have been tied up and served for dinner."

The chest of an Ewok was like the human hand. Again and again, Luke saw a spear greet Ewoks come to share the banquet. It was a form of greeting, as well as encouragement, much like head ruffling was an expression of dislike, which Chewie discovered when he sent Wicket howling back to his mother.

"Come here, little one," Chewie called in Shyriiwook, which of course no Ewok would understand. "I do it to your god, too," and his large hand rubbed C-3PO's domed top roughly.

"No, First Mate Chewbacca!" C-3PO exclaimed as the Ewoks angrily retrieved vines to tie up Chewie's wrists again. "If you wish to show you like young Wicket, you should nibble the inside of his paw."

Luke posed to Han now, "Remember all those planets we visited?" though he saw there was no need to remind Han of the Core worlds Leia had brought them to. "All those different human customs?"

Han grinned darkly, watching the bowl's progress in Wicket's arms around the trunk's interior. He returned to the topic of food. "Put that fruit inside your belly, though, and I can't tell you what'll do to a human's digestive system. Could be poisonous to us. Stick with the meat."

Luke nodded. Earlier, he had stood at the edge of the fire pit, watching an Ewok turn a spit. Part of him wanted to stand there and just watch, think about the item on the spit and be glad it wasn't him. A small part needed to know what they were eating. He was fine with the idea of eating the thing that lured them into the trap but not at all if it was a stormtrooper. And then he was also thinking about the Ewoks, what they ate and how they cooked it; he observed the fire and wondered idly what if he introduced a Tatooinian foil oven to them.

The fire was uncomfortable when he stood too close but he missed its heat when he backed only a step away. Where was the happy medium, he wondered, and his thoughts drifted to introductions, and poisons, from death and life, to a different way of life. Ewoks might learn to cut trees with metal, Luke thought, would that be so bad. There was no shutting Ewok eyes to some things they had seen the Empire do in their forest.

It made the mind whirl, Luke decided, like inhaling smoke from the fire. Which reminded him of his aunt and uncle, and his thoughts traveled a chain of events, from home and Ben, to Death Stars- two now- and homes again, planets and moons and military bases.

Cha'ta, he thought again. The Jedi and the Force. The one and the all. The Jedi must have been like the forest, Luke thought, the individual making up the whole, and he very well couldn't be a forest if there was just one tree. But the Force was all around, beautiful and searching; lonely, too, Luke realized. Cut off- from itself, its other half. Emperor Palpatine took the dark side away and horded it. Luke shouldn't be here, alone, with an impossible task. There should be others, strong in the Force, who understood it, felt it. But there was only his father and Palpatine, and they had no interest in sharing.

The Force was- sorry for him, he saw. That's why all these memories, these bittersweet pangs. Well, Luke thought. It was too late to go about this another way. Ben and Yoda, and any hidden Jedi that survived past the Purge until Vader caught up with them- they had decided the best way to fight Palpatine. And now, Luke owed it not just to the Jedi, but to the whole galaxy to bring the plan to fruition. The Empire was rich with the dark side, and hungry; and these little Ewoks were just the next in a long line the Empire would try and consume.

The Ewoks must be made dizzy, watching the war take part on their land. He didn't want to see them hurt; he wanted to minimize the damage and tell them to stay away. The Ewoks had a new phrase in their language, introduced only recently, and it described what the newcomers did to the moon. They called humans Color Drainers.

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The Ewoks may have stewed stormtroopers, but they provided well for their god, C-3PO, and his guests. They drummed and chanted and cooked, and Luke thought surely the noise, the smell, would carry to the Imperial bunker, but several Ewoks were on guard and no one sounded an alarm. There was a deceptive peace.

Cubs played a jumping game in their corner, and though it was the eve of battle, it was nice. Another impression, or memory- celebrating the Galactic New Year. Luke could see the clock on the shelf clearly in his memory, like it was right in front of him. All the moisture farmsteads had a calendar clock, useless for any other purpose, set to the number six hundred thousand, the total number of clicks in a year, and it ticked its way to zero as a year wore down. Some were quite ornate, carved or jeweled, housed in a case, but the Lars had a simple, inexpensive one they kept on a shelf. The last two thousand clicks, celebrants let loose for the night, for a year was done, and who knew what the new one would bring.

The concept of cha'ta overtook him again, and he imagined listening as a Tuskan, sitting in their camps watching the bonfires and hearing those humans sing from over in the Dune Sea. When he was too young to go off and party with his friends, he, Beru and Owen buried an item of clothing in the sand; a head band or shirt Luke had outgrown, signifying the old year, and they dunked freshly baked cookies in blue milk and waited for the new year to start. Luke watched the numbers of the clock tick down, reviewing in his mind the year gone by, comfortable with it because it was familiar. On the other side of the clock was the unknown, and he went to bed nervous, feeling like all he knew might just be a puff of smoke.

Year after year, he mused. And eventually it was true. For Leia, too.

Though in the moment of their birth it had all gone up in a puff of smoke, hadn't it? Their mother dead, their father dark and murderous. He wondered if either he or Leia cried. Babies were supposed to cry, wasn't that right? It was a physical response to being out of the womb? Get the lungs working? If Luke cried, it would be for his mother, he determined, and not for life. If he could control his body, he would clutch at his mother. He wouldn't want to leave her. Like a clock ticking down to zero. He was pretty sure he and Leia must have known their mother was dying. It made him sad, years later on Endor, just sad.

What else was there to do except grieve, even for a baby, and live? Twenty-three years later and he was on a forest moon, feeling like his mother sent him here. Was the war for her? No- the war was the Emperor's. The existence of Darth Vader was for her, but really that was for the Emperor, too.

The meal done, Ewoks brought out pieces of wood, like sturdy twigs, only these were also rubbed smooth, something stuffed into an opening at one end and smoke wafting out of bored holes. Ewoks stretched and broke into groups, chattering. The cubs jumped up from their dining corner and ventured over to Chewie, all shyness gone. They pet him, and clambered into his lap and even on his shoulders. Luke wondered if they had any idea their clock was ticking down and about to be reset.

"Ever smoke?" Han asked him. The smoking stick was poked into Han's chest and he knew better now not to say no.

"No," Luke shook his head. Han sniffed the contents. Inside, Luke saw tiny, shredded pieces of dried leaf. "It's a pipe?"

Han nodded.

"What if it's poisonous?" Luke wondered.

Han smiled gamely. "Guess we'll find out. Just don't swallow the smoke."

It was words. Simple words. But cha'ta left Luke; he felt watery, despairing. Han hadn't meant anything, nothing at all; just friendly advice on how to smoke a pipe, but it was the words, and Luke wanted to take it all back, find every piece of buried clothing in the sand, and start all over if he could. Go back, tell Beru and Owen, _don't swallow the smoke_ , though they were doomed, it was more than smoke. Go back to Ben in the desert at sunset, a tiny bundle in his hands, _save yourself, Uncle. Don't. I'll be okay; the Force will show me the forest moon another way, and I'll try not to care so much this time._ Go back to his mother. _Don't die. You can't. You have a son and daughter. Keep us a family. Raise us. Together we'll handle what Anakin Skywalker has done._ Find Anakin Skywalker, anywhere- the boy, the Jedi- and warn him, _no matter what happens don't be afraid._

The puff of smoke, the clock starting from zero. The young person gone to bed in one life and waking to find himself in another.

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Darkness had fallen and there was nothing to be done tonight. Nothing but wonder where to sleep, how to sleep, and how it would all go down in the morning.

Luke wondered about any Imperial storm troopers in the forest. Did they go to the bunker to spend the night? He doubted the Empire saw to their comfort. The strike team was better off, nesting on mosses or a thick pile of needles and leaves, the open sky above them glittering starlight. Of course one of those non-twinkling lights was the Death Star, and they had to be staring up at it, thinking of what was to come.

Han mimed to Wicket, asking about the drums, while Leia cornered Bird Skull. They separated, and Luke did what Luke did, which was to watch everything and everyone; feel, sense. They were all going in different directions. Leia was a diplomat; she was trying to save the moon. Han was just trying to save himself, even though added to that there was a Wookiee, a shuttle crew and a strike team; and Luke was a Jedi, above and apart. In his mind's eye he had left the moon, for the Force beckoned him to the Death Star.

Wicket led Han down to where the three stormtrooper helmets were arranged on a large log. Han gave a few halfhearted thumps on the innovative drum before asking, "Where's the rest of it?"

Luke knew what Han was thinking. 3PO would doubtless launch into an explanation of the musical practices of the Ewok, but Han was more interested in how the bodies of the fallen stormtroopers were disposed of. He wanted to know where the rest of the uniforms were. He was thinking of the idle shuttle on the landing pad, of the receiver on the Death Star that merely needed a switch flipped to turn it off, so much easier than blowing up the transmitter on the moon.

Maybe. Luke ventured down next to Han, in case he invariably caused another culture war. Han was probably fighting himself, Luke figured, and he wanted to fight for Han, with him. He wanted to help him succeed in this crazy mission the Alliance had assigned their new general. Han was itching to have alternatives, wanting to keep everyone safe and have as few casualties as possible. Han of old would go himself, and Luke could see the shadow of an idea behind his eyes.

"Fire shouldn't melt the uniform, right?" Luke said.

"If the temp is high enough it will. They don't have a tool that's like a shovel. I doubt they're buried." Han shrugged and turned up a palm, and within a moment, Wicket brought him a hunk of meat still attached to bone. "What's this for?" he asked Luke.

"I don't know. I think you signaled you're hungry." Luke tested his theory, showing his palm, and soon enough, a hunk of meat was brought to Luke as well. It looked like a leg. He bit into it happily. "Ewok sign language," he said with a grin, then thought about the stormtroopers some more. "Maybe there's water. A river, or a lake. And they sunk them."

Han glared quickly at Luke and then set a hand on his hip, gazing into the trees. "They don't string 'em up," he remarked.

"I know what you're thinking, Han," Luke reminded him with a full mouth. "You can't go. Not with only a helmet, a Wookiee and a pair of Bloodstripes. You can't show up, and think 'let's see what happens'."

Han turned to him, stubborn and spontaneous. "Well, someone can go. I'm gonna keep looking for those uniforms."

Han's internal struggle was obvious to Leia, too. Rather than feel him out on it as Luke did she had stayed by his side during the meal, hooking her arm inside his, and even though she wasn't High Council anymore she was a reminder of rank and duty. Her presence told Han of the bigger picture, of the fleet waiting for its signal. She kept him on the moon, restless and impatient.

Han squatted in front of Wicket, and held up his meat. "Leg," he said, and touched his own. "Leg," he repeated. Then he stood to tap the helmet drum with his free hand. "Where's his legs?" He started to spread his arms and shrug, a human gesture of question, but realized he might receive more meat, so dropped his arms to his sides.

Wicket jumped up and down, waving his arms over his head, and laughed.

At least it sounded like laughter. Luke and Han exchanged bemused glances. The meaning was unclear, and C-3PO wasn't nearby to tell them what it meant.

The Ewoks held the droid's attention, describing the Empire's descent onto the forest moon. Interesting, in that they only had come recently; Ewok sense of time was based on a certain plant's new growth, and Luke had no idea exactly how long ago that was, but certainly long after initial construction on the Death Star had begun. This was important, somehow, and Luke frowned over at Leia to see if it registered oddly with her, too.

Why? Why all of a sudden decide the construction site needed protection?

Luke gazed over at the empty visors of the stormtrooper helmets, as if they could give him an answer. All it told him was the Ewok way of life was irrevocably changed. At least Luke had done things the Ewok way. He'd been caught in one of their traps. The Empire hadn't. It brought all kinds of machines and new technology. He might be one of the last to be caught in such a trap, Luke realized. A society on the cusp of change.

Bird Skull saw change, too. He saw it in the dead trees, stumps ground down to nothing. Gaps in the forest, homes taken away, soaring boardwalks high above broken. He was telling C-3PO how they turned the forest against the invaders; strung vine to trip the machines, paved the ground with logs rigged to roll when weight was put upon them. They worked sneakily, like the Alliance had; using the night, going sleepless, traps appearing "like mushrooms", C-3PO had translated, and Han evidently appreciated the description, for he slapped his thigh lightly.

Luke had only found one being on Endor with a quiet Force-sensitivity, and it was a tree. Ewoks were active, energetic beings whose sense of time was progressive, in seasons. The past was viewed vaguely; C-3PO said they didn't say 'the tree grew' but 'the tree is growing', and that this included past seasons as well as future ones, until the tree died. What was happening in the forest now, however, was unnatural to the Ewoks. The 'our' was disrupted, and they saw it as their job to protect the cha'ta.

Leia was torn; she had 3PO convey her understanding of their desire to drive the Imperials away, but she warned them they would not succeed. The Empire was on Endor, she told them. There was no going back; only forward, and they had to know the cost. First they would lose trees and homes, but next they would lose Ewok lives. There was only going forward, she warned, but there was a certain point of no return. Up there, she pointed, was something that could kill more than tree, more than Ewok; it could kill- and her finger went to C-3PO- the sun god. "It killed mine," she told them.

"I am a leaf, drifting in the wind," she asked the droid to impart to the Ewoks. "Tell them, 3PO. Tell them the breeze never settles, and I can never land, whether it be in a pool of water, tangled in a nest or against the shelter of a tree on the ground. I only move, and I cannot rest."

Wicket lifted her hand and covered it with his face, making a noise. Luke had never heard Leia speak so- so poetically before, about what it meant to lose Alderaan. She was either frank, or fierce, or silent. He'd had no idea of the scope of her exhaustion, her loneliness. No wonder she hooked her arm in Han's.

"I will tell them how you lost your sun god, Mistress Leia," C-3PO informed her.

Ewoks crowded around, some smoking pipes, still entranced by C-3PO. He started to tell them a story, one about a farm boy and a Princess and a smuggler. He spoke in the language the Ewoks used, but he had a wonderful arsenal of sound effects, of which Luke was learning for the first time.

It was a great way to tell a story. Luke didn't speak Ewok, but he knew the sound of Vader's breathing, and he knew the sound of the _Falcon's_ engines, so he followed along quite well. It made it come alive, and it was interesting, to see how the Ewoks reacted to things he'd done, things he'd lived through.

Memories were still fresh. There was no translation for carbonite, and when C-3PO spoke the word Chewie howled. There was no translation for that either; it was just a noise of sorrow.

Something about the carbonite tale disturbed the Ewoks. They gasped and flinched when 3PO evoked images of the slab, and Wicket curled his arms around Han's legs and purred. For the second time, Han was brought back to the carbon freeze chamber, and he had to live again through being buried in liquid carbonite and then frozen. He wasn't alone this time. Leia's cheek was on his shoulder, and Wicket had a tight hold of him. He had to relive it, but others could experience it with him.

Maybe stories helped heal.

Oh, this was appealing to Luke, and he clapped his fingers rapidly against his legs in realization. They did, they must. This was why the Force drifted, wrapping itself around him, prompting his senses with memories. And if stories were the voice of the Force, then they were the Force.

He'd felt this a little himself- a lifting, a release- when he told Han who his father was. He'd wanted someone to know, in case his father wound up killing him. He needed someone to finish his story, someone to add to Leia's. That's what he thought at the time. Now he saw it brought him to complete acceptance.

He'd kept his own story, the one about the farm boy whose father was a fallen Jedi, a secret. Secrets were not allowed to be heard. They were whispered by their owners with no other audience, and the longer they remained hidden, the bigger they became.

Secrets were the dark side, then. It made sense, Luke thought. The kinds of emotions that fed it- pity and shame and anger- rolled over inward, feeding more and more on itself. Consuming, just as Yoda had described.

So- what now? Luke thought. Was this just wisdom? Or could he actually use it somehow. Anakin Skywalker had a secret, and as Darth Vader he had even more. The Emperor must know about them, Luke decided, for that's how he kept Vader in his service.

3PO finished with the hum of a live lightsaber and a concluding statement. Probably something like, "and that's why we're here today." Nothing about Jabba. Nothing about his hand, that Luke could tell anyway. No Ewok hugged him or made comforting noises.

But there it was. The Ewoks had the reason the Color Drainers were on Endor. They started jabbering among themselves animatedly.

Luke leaned against wood, listening, hearing in fragments Owen's or Beru's memories of their own childhoods _one day it rained, and it was cold! and you couldn't see the suns and I dug a hole and had a puddle_ and saw he'd taken them into himself, how their early lives came to shape their nephew's years later. And he remembered he had wanted to be the one that told a story. Sit in a rocking chair, old and content, the future spread out at his feet, them hanging on to his every word. Delight them with tales of aerial firefights, describe the thrill of the escape, the magic of the Force.

Sadly, this was the story he was left to tell today: "And the farm boy saw he might have to kill his father."

He would be met with stunned, uncomfortable silence. _Did he?_ his descendants would whisper among themselves, now afraid of the narrator. If he could kill his father, could he kill them too?

"If I hadn't," Ancestor Luke would tell them, "I might not be here now."

 _Why?_

"Because he was my father."

 _But why?_

"Because he did very bad things. That's what family is. You take after each other. You take care of them."

A timorous, fearful voice, _and killing… is taking care of them?_

Ancestor Luke's sad, lonely smile, one for which there were no words. "Sometimes it is."

Han, Rieekan, and Leia, through her father- they'd all told Luke a little of the Jedi Purge. Ben had said Darth Vader hunted down the Jedi. So it was him. He killed how many? Not all. Han remembered an army marching down the streets where he lived, looking for Jedi. The ones on assignment, away? Ones not at the temple. So Vader had killed the ones at the temple. The ones that were home. Eating, sleeping, studying. There must have been- Luke had no idea. A lot, he would figure. Had Vader met with no resistance?

Vader could have killed Luke so easily on Cloud City. But even poorly trained, Luke had gotten at least one good blow in. Surely-

The dinner sitting in Luke's stomach soured. _You, little descendants. He would kill you. Purge the Force. That's why he had to die._

Gods. He thought of his mother, and the burden. Had she known what her love Anakin had done? Become? Had she said _Anakin, come back to me, or I'll die._

Luke would say something similar. _Come back to me._ He would say _Come back to me, before you die._ Yes. Luke's death would change nothing, so he had to try and not let it happen.

He remembered Leia, in her cell on the Death Star. His eager, excited declaration: "I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you." He was such a kid, then, he thought. He never thought of Leia that way, but when he looked back, even though they were both nineteen, he seemed so much younger. How would his father react? _I'm your son- Luke. I'm here to rescue you._ Would his father laugh at him for his naivete?

His mother wasn't Force-sensitive. Perhaps dying was the only way to reach the Anakin she used to know. Of all the people in the galaxy, Luke wished his mother were here now, so he could get her counsel. There was no one better who understood what was at stake. More than the compassion of Beru, who would only advise him sadly to do what he felt was right; more than his responsible sister, who would tell him to do what was just; more than practical Han, who would say do what you got to do. He needed his mother.

Goodness. He had to leave the hut, suddenly feeling a little overcome, very alone. He walked a little, stopping at a point in the boardwalk where it veered off in several directions. The Ewoks had built a little center off the radiating paths, and placed several stumps. A plaza, Luke thought lazily. Or a park. A classroom? Beyond, little glints of light flashed, polka dotting the woods, as insects did a mating ritual, signalling to each other with glowing body parts.

Anakin Skywalker had loved. There was always that. Luke's only weapon really. Hopefully it was stronger than a lightsaber. He didn't know what the ending of his story to his descendants was. He didn't want to have to be the one to kill Vader. _Once upon a time,_ is how Luke thought he would fight back. _Let it out, Father. Not just your rage, but your grief and your love. Tell your story._

"Luke?"

Luke whirled, feeling the fright a sleeper senses when they are wrenched from dreams into wakefulness.

"What are you doing out here?" Leia asked, treading slowly on the boardwalk towards him.

He nodded at her, feeling nervous, that _settle it_ coming louder.

"I needed some air," he told her guiltily. "Too much smoke. What are the Ewoks doing?"

"They've been deliberating," Leia explained. "Like a bunch of Senators," she said with a sad smile. "They no longer group us with the Color Drainers. We're Ewoks, apparently." Leia gestured behind her. "The she-woks are going to make you, Han and Chewie some head coverings."

"I hope they're shorter than yours. Do they have a name for us?" Luke wondered. "Since we're not Color Drainers, but we're not really Ewoks, either."

Leia's brow arched, glad for a chance at idle humor. "The Bald Ones?"

Luke smiled. "Furless?"

"Maybe Big Eyes," Leia suggested, "because of what we want to accomplish. Han is getting things set for the morning."

Luke nodded in understanding. "We're adopted again," he said.

Leia sighed. "Luke, what is it? Ever since you got back from Dagobah, something's been bothering you."

Luke decided to ignore her. "You never told me about the Death Star," he said.

She blinked at him. "What?"

"I only know you were interrogated," he persisted. "And Han's told me what an Imperial interrogation is like, not you. You never told me about Alderaan. I realized when I was listening to 3PO, that I've never really known what you went through." She started breathing fast, looking at him with wide eyes. She'd probably never told anyone, Luke realized. Her secret shame. "Tell me," he said gently.

She tried to fight him off. "There's nothing to tell. I'm not the only being to undergo interrogation. I'm not-"

"You're the only one who saw it. For Alderaan, tell me. I'll... " Luke sought the right thing to say. "For you. I'll hold it."

Leia squared her shoulders and jerked her head to the side. "No one should see." Her voice was haunted, quiet. "It was... it's unnatural. Do you want to know what I think of?" she asked, and went on without waiting for his answer. "That it's humans. Humans are the reason Alderaan is not here. We're all over the galaxy, aren't we. A hardy life form. We can live most anywhere."

"We live on Tatooine," Luke said with a wry smile.

"I think of things like these," Leia raised her hand as she tried to catch a glowing bug in her palm. "Little glow bugs. The life more indigent to Alderaan than her wayward humans. And how they had nothing to do with the human's war, but they're gone."

Luke watched as hundreds of bugs flashed their light, like twinkling stars. He said nothing.

"I didn't want to see the Death Star used on _any_ world," Leia whispered. "I had to name something- my mind was screaming, so loud, I could barely think. Pick a world, where there's nothing. Pick a nothing world where Tarkin might think the rebels were. There's no such thing as a nothing world."

"Tarkin?" Luke asked, and regretted interrupting Leia.

"Tarkin," she repeated softly. "I named Dantooine. And I was sorry. I'd been there, you know, with my father. It's a beautiful world, much like this. Green."

She fell silent and Luke moved closer to her. For a long while neither spoke. Then, because Luke wanted her to finish her story, to let it out, maybe start to heal, or at least not internalize it in guilt and shame, he dared, "But Tarkin didn't find anything?"

"It was too far," Leia answered. "And Alderaan was close. I- I couldn't do anything. I tried. I was helpless. My hands were cuffed. Vader held me against him." She looked at Luke. "I'm not the only one. Vader saw it, too."

"Oh," Luke uttered, his stomach sinking that Vader had been involved.

Leia shuddered. "Tarkin had a gaunt, gaunt face."

Luke nodded. They took a seat on a stump, and to share it he had to sit with his back turned to her. "Funny," he began, "the things that stay with us. You remember a gaunt face. For Mr. Darklighter it's the visitor bell. It's the smoke for me, the first thing I saw, and I was too far away to do anything. Except keep driving. And my panic grew the closer I got."

Behind him, Leia was motionless. They had sunk against each other, backs touching, supporting each other.

"And I remember the exact moment I lost my hand," Luke continued. "Like in slow motion. I can see the strike, and it sever-" Leia shuddered again- "and it just kind of... sailing away. With my lightsaber. The one my father used."

"Your father," Leia said softly. "That has always driven you. Since the day I met you. On the _Falcon,_ when you were grieving General Kenobi, I thought it was about your father too. Because the same thing happened to him as Ben."

Luke shook his head, unaware he was contradicting her. "I always wanted to know where I came from," he said, "unfairly to my aunt and uncle. But I know now. They're like two of these twinkling bugs here, part of the forest." He smiled affectionately. "They'e in me. I just remember them better than the blood parents I have."

Leia looked up at the tree tops. "I don't know my blood parents either, but after my mother died, I used to-" she stopped for a moment, suddenly shy. A little girl again, Luke thought. "- I used to look up at the sky, you know, from my tower window I liked, and pretend that my mother and my other mother were friends, and found each other, and watched over me."

Luke was charmed. He said nothing, but turned his head so she could see his tender smile.

"And," Leia went on, "I would imagine my mother- Breha- telling my biological mother all about me. And once I dreamed that Breha was back- it was a lovely dream; I still think about it- and she was telling me about my biological mother- she was playing with me, and-" Leia sniffed an emotional laugh- "it was the best game, the best feeling game. It's hard to describe, but I was so- golden; I don't know, this warm light- and how she wanted me, and what she wanted me to remember of her, in the short time we had each other."

Wondrously, Luke thought to himself, the Force. Little Leilei, in her tower, looking out at the cosmos, thinking of connections, and the Force brought her her mothers. He turned to face her, a knot of the stump digging into his hip. "What would you remember of your real mother?" he asked.

"Impressions, really," Leia said. "I was very young. Beauty, and sadness."

Strange, Luke thought. The woman he thought of as his mother, the one he'd seen in Force visions, had indeed been beautiful. And graced with a sadness, he saw too, as she floated across the sand and boarded the skiff to gaze quickly, as if she wasn't allowed, upon Luke and Leia. He, as a boy, had just burned with curiosity, and yet Leia, in dreamy play, knew more about their parents than he ever had.

Because their mother wasn't Force-sensitive? or because the Force had its own secrets, and couldn't reveal the truth about Anakin Skywalker, and that's what Luke wanted to know.

"I never knew my mother," he said regretfully.

"Luke, tell me what's troubling you," Leia said, touching his wrist.

He swallowed. Han said he should tell her. The Force was urging him to settle it. Vader, if they won, was going to die. If they lost... well, then nothing would matter anymore. Palpatine would have the galaxy. Palpatine would continue to have their father.

If he told her, he would have to fix things. Now. Immediately. _Settle it._ Yes. He got her to release her story of Alderaan, so she could begin to heal. That was important. It would keep her from feeling the lure of the dark side. And now it was important to settle the rest of it. Protect Leia. Save her. She couldn't let herself be used as a weapon of the Force Ben had taught him, but nor could he risk her succumbing to Vader and the Emperor.

Had the Force guided Han now as it had when it led him to Luke in the snowstorm? The Death Star had been on Han's mind this whole time. The old one and the new one. Not the battle, where Luke had helped blow up the Death Star but how he and Han, with Leia, had sneaked around. Storm trooper uniforms and the old man, who flipped the switch. The old man, who confronted Vader and got killed.

A surety filled Luke, and he was hesitant, too, about Leia, but he also felt good, really good. He knew why he told Han; it had been the right thing to do. Luke probably wouldn't be back. That was fine. He was actually- what? Almost glad. It was a relief. He couldn't fall. And he might not succeed. So he may die. He had a lightsaber, one he'd built by himself. That was good. And he had love, love he could share with his father.

Leia was squeamish. He held her eyes intently, talking about Vader, about their connection. He wasn't hurt that it revolted her. That was Vader's problem; not Luke's. Vader had done that. Luke was innocent, and in time, she would see that. Even if he never came back.

"The Force is strong in my family," he murmured to her. She was spellbound, hypnotized. "My father has it. I have it. My-" he paused for dramatic effect, so she'd _hear_ him, open to him- "my sister has it."

He waited. He could watch the play of thoughts on her face and he brightened. She was seeing the bunks on the _Falcon_ and them talking; she was remembering cups of tea in her quarters, hiking up the bluff of Calvunca, hiking all over the Core worlds; throwing snow and playing sabacc.

Her brow was smooth, her lips rosy with a natural health, dark lashes fluttered on her cheeks. "I know," she said, the words pulled out of her. "Somehow," and she met his eyes again, and the Force flooded between them, again, finally, wholly. "I've always known."

She wouldn't like for him to kiss her but he would kiss a tree just to show how much this moment meant to him. He might even get up and dance a jig. But she was still struggling with it, drawing the lines, finishing the equation. If Vader was Luke's father, and Leia was Luke's sister, then that meant...

"You know why I have to face him," he said.

"No!" Leia gasped out. "Luke- run away. Far away. If he can feel your presence, then leave this place. I wish I could go with you."

He choked back his laugh. She was not a good liar. "No, you don't," he said fondly. Families were different things to different people. Leia's family had always been all of Alderaan, with a tiny subset that was her father, and two mothers who were friends in death. Now she had Han, and Chewie and Luke, and he knew she would never need another father.

She wanted to see their father dead, and from her point of view he couldn't blame her. He wouldn't seek his forgiveness from her. _I'm sure if he knew, Leia, he wouldn't have tortured you, or kept you from saving Alderaan, or used Han so cruelly if he saw how much he meant to you-_ No, where it concerned his daughter, Vader had done nothing right.

She would get through this, though her eyes were glittering with tears. Grieving him. "You've always been strong," he encouraged.

"But why must you confront him?" she despaired.

"Because... there is good in him. I've felt it," Luke said. "I can save him, I can turn him back. Sit down, I'll explain." He took a seat, but she resisted. He pulled on her sleeve, and she finally relented.

"He doesn't know about you. We're twins- I know, it's amazing, isn't it?" He saw the interplay of emotions on her face and had to answer them. "We were separated at birth. Ben knew who you were. That's why your father had you seek him out."

Leia wiped her eye swiftly. "How can a father not-"

"I don't know. I don't know who our mother is. He must have known she was pregnant, but maybe the Clone Wars kept them apart; maybe at the point when she learned she was carrying twins they weren't able to contact each other. Maybe that's when he started to lose himself. Because- even though I don't know- I feel she's what - she was his light side.

"And that," Luke continued, "well, she's just as you imagined her. I saw her once in a Force vision. She- actually," he babbled, "I don't know if that's our mother, but Anakin, when he was a Jedi, brought a woman to Tatooine when his mother died. She _was_ beautiful. She looked like you."

Leia surprised Luke. "What did he look like?"

"Anakin?" his brows were up. "He was..." Luke squinted, trying to bring the memory closer. "... tall, brown hair. Maybe blue eyes? Like mine. The woman's were brown. He was nothing like what he is now."

"Except he is," Leia argued. "He's- a horror. I've said it before, Luke. A monster. That breathing. But inside he's the same man. Anakin would always be Vader."

Luke nodded. "Perhaps. But no one is so one-sided, Leia. Right? Not even you. He loved. He loved our mother. Deeply, I think. So deeply it pushed him over the edge to Vader. And he- I don't know when he found out about me. I think after Vrakith IV. But since then, you know this, he's been looking for me. Not for the Force," Luke hedged a bit here, "but because he has a son."

"Stay with us," Leia pleaded. "Here, on the moon. You don't have to confront him now. We're going to blow the Death Star up, Luke! If we do and you're-"

"He can find me. If I let him, he'll have the Ewoks. I can't let him have you again. Not until I tell him."

"Tell him?" Leia's face twisted. She didn't want Vader to know about her, Luke saw. Another secret.

"Don't worry. I know he has to die. For a while I-" Luke broke off, thinking he didn't need to tell her the months of worry he'd endured. "Until I tell him there's still something to love. Then he can die."

"But Luke, he's powerful. And there's the Emperor too, after him, even more powerful-"

"I know," Luke soothed, nodding. "Ever since he's known about me, he's lost his faith in the Emperor. He's still with him, because he knows we'll come for him. But once he sees he's got other options, he'll help me finish Palpatine."

"And you think he'll be willing to die." Doubt was all through Leia's voice.

"He has no choice."

She shook her head, telling Luke she thought he was wrong. "After all this time, all this- life, the power he has- you think he's just going to lie down and take it because he has a son."

"It's all that matters to him now. Yes."

"You sound so certain."

"About that, I am. Now, what the Emperor is going to do about it... he may kill Vader. Whether I'll succeed..." Luke found he didn't want to speculate about what would happen on the Death Star. "But now you know. You've suspected you're Force-sensitive, haven't you? Even Han knows."

Her head shot up. "He does?"

Luke nodded.

"You told him?" she demanded edgily.

"No, not that."

"How could he know?" She was incredulous.

"I don't know. He always knew I was. Maybe he saw a similarity in us." He tried to lighten the moment. "You know, a twin thing."

She shot him a dirty look. Then she said, "What do you mean, 'not that'?"

Luke straightened his spine, gathering strength. "I told him. I told him Vader was my father."

"What!" Leia jumped up. "How could you-"

Luke raised his palm. "I didn't tell him everything."

"Luke, why? Why?" Leia was shaking her head. "I can't- no."

"He was..." Luke thought. "He took it alright. He didn't believe me at first."

Leia drifted over to the edge of the walkway. There was no railing, and only the little glow bugs hinted at how far a drop it was. "You shouldn't have," she said tightly. "Not when you knew it concerned me, too. Not when you-"

"It's up to you now, Leia. Don't you see? It does concern me. I learned who my father was. And I wanted him to know."

She shook her head, and turned away. He grabbed her sleeve again so she couldn't move far and spoke to her averted face, low and urgent. "You were missing, Leia. We found wreckage. He was scared to death, about what we might find, about you, but he kept going, you know why? Because _he had to know._ That- _you-_ scared him more than anything he's ever felt his whole life, maybe since he was a kid and his whole security puffed up in smoke, I don't know. He could have done a lot of things, and I think one thing he has done in the past, because he was scared, was just turn around and leave. But he didn't this time. You made him brave."

"I can't tell him."

"And he'll make you brave."

"Don't you dare tell him."

"Look at me, Leia. It's me. Right? Farm boy, Red Five. Your brother. I love you. Am I disgusting? Am I frightening?"

"Luke-"

"I used to think so. You shared my house on Tatooine! And I knew. Every day, whether we were farming or making Stone Bread, I'd think, _tell her._ But I couldn't. I was so afraid. I thought you'd reject me. Or," Luke laughed once, his relief that his secret was out showing him how he'd blown everything out of proportion, "you might kill me."

Her eyes looked into the dark depths of the forest. "I wouldn't kill you."

"After Bespin the only thing I was afraid of was the dark side of the Force," Luke admitted. "Because Vader is the dark side. And I thought I was.. I don't know. Susceptible? Genetically predisposed? But then I realized there isn't much difference between light and dark. I can still do things in the light, what most would consider bad. Like Influence. Kill, even." Luke paused, remembering the Rodian in the cantina who struggled for air because Luke made it so.

"The Force is connections," Luke continued, his speech unplanned but from the heart. "It's interactions, sharing life with others. That's what keeps it in the light. We feel it, some of us see it. It moves from life to life, growing firmer. Deeper. When you use it for yourself, like gaining power or withholding information, it isn't passed around. It isn't shared; it stays with one and gets all distorted. That's the dark side. Actually, there is no dark side. Or, there's no separation. There isn't supposed to be." He passed a hand shakily through his hair. "Do I make sense?"

It took a moment for Leia to answer. She was moved, troubled, but she had been listening. "Yes," she whispered.

"The light side is the same as the dark side. Only that's the one visible." There, Luke thought that wasn't a bad conclusion. "And that's what I'm going to do for our father. Bring him back to into the light. I think that'll end this war better than blowing up the Death Star. I have to try, anyway."

Leia only swallowed, giving a half nod. They were standing on the edge again, as they had on the first Death Star, and there had only been one way across. Then, he'd been a kid, young and naive, and he and Leia had made a bad turn. There was no floor. He'd tossed up his grappling hook, and she had kissed him on the cheek. "For luck," she had said.

They were in similar situation. Now, one step forward and they both could plummet to the forest floor, through the dark of night. He wasn't as young and nowhere near as naive. It was simpler then, when only the Empire was their enemy.

Luke kissed his sister softly on the cheek, for love, and stepped away from the edge, before making his way along the boardwalk to disappear into the night and find his father.

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 _I'm back. Sorry for the delay. Carrie Fisher said it best: 'If my life weren't funny, it would just be true, and that is unacceptable.' If you're still hanging in there with me, let me know. Words of encouragement last forever. And thank you, everyone, for reading._


	42. Water

The easiest way to surrender, of course, was through Vader.

Twinkling bugs offered gentle flashes, like insight. The texture of bark on trees, black on indigo just briefly, the glint of Leia's moist eyes where he'd left her.

 _Father. I'm ready now. Meet me at the landing pad._

While he thought that, underlying was a history of similar requests, and they came at him from everywhere, like rain drops: _Uncle Owen, can you come get me?_

He'd said it so many times as a boy. A normal part of his childhood. He'd been a busy youth, he saw now, what with Biggs, and school things and hanging out at Tosche Station. The heat, the Hutt, and the Raiders made it common sense: a child never traveled alone. And too, something about the request- there was a dependence, a need. Children looked up to their guardians; they wanted to ask, _can you come get me_ because they wanted to hear, no matter how an adult put it, _I'm coming._

His father did not answer him.

This was interesting, and Luke resolved to look at it closely in a moment, but first he wanted to send a nod off to the Force, a kind of acknowledgement to a Maybe, that it was for the best. It would be a lot easier on Luke to just have his father take him from the moon, but his stony silence meant that Vader hadn't sensed the Force flood into Leia earlier, and he was still unaware of her presence.

He was old enough not to be bothered by it, wise enough to dismiss it, too; but having a father was new to him, and he had to admit, he was a little disappointed.

He walked through the dark woods, his steps drumming out two syllables: _Lei-a. Lei-a._ Or _Va-der. Va-der._ It depended on who he was thinking of. And while he walked, he saw, in the soft light of a bug, that the air was wet. It wasn't quite a mist, and he felt no dampness. The little bits of wetness swirled in constant movement, and it reminded him of coming out of hyperspace into the rubble of Alderaan, all the million pieces of rock- voices, Ben had called them, hitting the ship.

The night had arrived at the dew point, he realized. And he thought, _I was a moisture farmer._

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The twinkling bugs weren't much help navigating the forest at night. The canopy of trees was so thick there wasn't much light to go by. Luke almost walked into a tree once, and as he stopped short he wanted to laugh about it, with someone. _Hey, I just went splat._

But there wasn't anyone to talk to. Han was probably mad at him for leaving like this and Leia was surely torn up inside by his revelation, and he doubted if his father had ever laughed. He wondered if this playfulness was an odd reaction. Was he hysterical? Having an out of body experience? He raised his hand, fingers spread in the dark, half expecting to see himself glowing and blue like ghost Ben had.

Which made him hope, if he died- _If-_ he repeated to himself, he would become one with the Force as Ben and Yoda had. It was a matter of being ready for death, he suspected. Probably not all Jedi were. If a huge branch were to fall and crush Luke to death right now, he figured there would be a body for Han and Leia to find. But the moment Vader, or more likely the Emperor, were to strike him down, Luke hoped he had enough time to realize it. He would need to compose himself, harness the Force around him. He much preferred there be nothing left of him to find, just his clothing and his lightsaber.

He looked down at his waist, where his lightsaber dangled off a clip. _Oh_ , he thought. His one worldly possession. Would Vader pick it up? Would the Emperor allow him to keep it as a last relic of his son?

Luke wasn't sure how he felt about that. If there was one thing that signified his journey, it was his lightsaber. His Force powers had come from his father, his first lightsaber, too; Ben had provided him the initial introduction, and Yoda had completed- well, almost completed- his training. Everything about Luke had come from the past: mentors and a parent who were- _admit it, Yoda-_ supremely self-interested. But Luke's lightsaber was all Luke. It was green, and the parts for the cylinder, the crystal, so important, had come off the _Falcon._ It was built out of Luke's history with his friends, his new home and family, and it suited him perfectly. If anything, he regretted that he would not be able to pass it down to Leia.

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Just how did one surrender? The landing pad was brightly lit, and Luke squinted up at it, aware the twinkle bugs would not join him. He took the lift and rode it to the top, spotting two bored stormtroopers leaning on their blasters.

His playfulness returned. _I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to surrender to you._

Ben was wrong and Leia was right. What was Vader was already part of Anakin. Ben had missed the signs. Saw a cunning warrior and a good friend, when he should have noticed the ambition and the self-conceit.

He didn't love his father. When Luke saw that look cross Leia's face, he knew it.

He didn't love him, but he felt something for him, much more complex than Leia's revulsion.

On the surface was a sad anger. Was that sorrow? All Luke knew was when he thought about it he wanted to kick a tree. Because it was such a damn shame, years of it. It wasn't even a tragedy, all of this- well, Owen and Beru were- but not the fall of Anakin Skywalker.

And Luke felt a pity. It was very... un-son-like, if that was a word. He didn't like it. He saw a man who was… trapped, in a way; not just in the black suit but in himself. Anakin knew he'd made a terrible mistake, but as Vader he was stuck. There could be no atonement, no salvation for Vader and yet that's what Anakin wanted.

Anakin, or Vader, was too scared to die. Luke saw it as his filial duty to help him. And he saw, for the first time, how very like Leia he was. It was a heartening realization. He could just as easily have been raised the Prince, one who saw the broader picture, who understood the symbolism of gestures and tradition.

History was broad, or it was small. It was eons of connections and interactions or it was one woman who died giving birth to twins.

And he thought, how interesting beginnings were. Leia's face as she realized the truth. Torn, because relationships weren't all blood, and Luke was her brother all along. But the father...

She never really wanted to know where she came from, whereas Luke wanted so badly he'd come up with all sorts of explanations. They were twins; the same, yet different.

Was it that Bail Organa, a powerful, comfortable Viceroy, had a pilot to fly him back to Alderaan from wherever he fetched Leia, that he was free to hold her in his arms? Was she kept clean and warm, fed, sung to? And Luke, poor Luke, was shepherded by Ben, a monk whose only family was the Force. Luke remembered him, broken and exhausted, as he passed the baby off to Beru. He had to pilot himself, probably, and stowed Luke- in a chair? Had Luke peacefully slept, or had he cried himself to sleep? Or was Ben so upset by Anakin's betrayal that he couldn't bear to look at the son?

Perhaps this why they were separated. Whether he was a Prince or she a moisture farmer, if they were together, enjoying a normal, Force-filled life, would either of them rise so far, as they had? If they were Skywalkers and their father was Anakin, what shape would the galaxy have taken? Where would the Emperor be?

Luke thought he stood a fair chance. He wasn't sure about the Emperor- he wasn't connected through him yet in the Force, but he thought he could handle Vader. He was a Jedi. Vader's power was emotion, and Luke's was resolution.

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Luke dozed on his feet, waiting. The stormtroopers went back outside to patrol the landing pad, and the Commander had contacted Vader, and now glared at Luke with a jealous curiosity. His instructions had been to merely hold the prisoner for Vader. He had taken Luke's lightsaber- "you've seen Lord Vader carry a similar one, I'm sure," Luke had told him when asked, "what's this?"- cuffed his hands, and now Vader was coming.

He dreamed of the Force. It was water, a... beach, stream, all things. It covered a great distance and Luke walked it all. At some places it was rocky, with swirling white water, in others it was sandy and calm. His father was out in it, deep; caught in an eddy, swirling round and round. Luke and the Emperor watched; Luke from his vantage point far away on the shore, and the Emperor outside the whirlpool, floating on his back. Luke wanted to get a boat but all kinds of things prevented him from launching it. He couldn't get a life jacket his size, the boat smashed against a rock in the rapids, he had no oar, Han wouldn't fix the hyperdrive. Farther down a beach, where it was sunny and placid, Leia was on a rock, wearing a bathing suit that was almost what she wore at Jabba's, but it was soft cloth and attractive, and she was waiting for Han to surface. Luke called out to her for help, and she laughed at Han as he raised himself on his elbows to her rock. She was aware Luke was there, but did not speak, and he could tell she didn't care about the man caught in the eddy, and Han squirted a fountain of water from his lips at her. Off on their own, in their own section of beach, Ben and Yoda busied themselves under a thatched covering. They wore shorts and sandals, and they looked ridiculous, and in his dream Luke told them so, but they had used their lightsabers to burn a sign into wood, which they were hammering in the sand: Boat Rides, and they had carved an arrow pointing out to sea.

Luke cracked his neck, eyes still closed, but awake. He heard small clicks; the Commander was tapping on a data board. If he was still asleep, Luke thought, he'd go back in the dream and instead of worrying about the boat he would march up to Yoda and Ben and demand their help. There was another detail of his dream he found fascinating: Han was the only one who played in the water. Leia dabbled, reaching a toe in to kick water at him. The Emperor merely floated, and Vader spun in a vortex, but Han was under it, in it, taking it in and spitting it back out.

He did an eye roll under closed lids.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vader's shuttle was a fine piece of machinery. Similar to the stolen one Han had piloted to the moon, but it had luxury upgrades. Luke wondered, as he noticed a wider aisle and took a seat on a body conform chair, what Han would think of it. This wasn't helpful in steeling himself against Vader, but it had popped into his head, and once it was there, he found he really wanted to know.

Han's upgrades to the _Falcon_ were usually mechanical fixes, designed to help her perform better and not generally for passenger comfort. The _Falcon_ had a water shower, and Chewie slept in a hammock; otherwise Han lived fairly simply. Those were all the special passenger accommodations Luke could remember. The armrest of this shuttle's seat had a control panel to adjust to any specie's need. The lighting could be enhanced or dimmed, the sound might be muted or amplified, and accommodations for temperature and gravity were also possible.

Lando would like it. Luke glanced around, listening to himself. Why had Lando sprung to mind? Luke couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting. Because of the impending attack, because of the finery... Leia's tears, Alderaan, Han's ship. Owen, and Lando. Was he unable to focus?

He didn't feel stuck in the past. These images that rose before him weren't exactly memories. They weren't obstacles, either. More like details; things he needed to observe, combine.

 _My last lesson._

This was a sign of how far he had come, for there was just the Force, and he was in it, while it streamed around him. He was supported, surrounded. Gathered. It was lovely. And it was fine. The Force let ideas strike him, let him be curious, even permitted a joke or two. Luke no longer segmented it into digestible, knowable pieces. There was no Force Han to talk him through it, no Beru opening his kitchen door. The Force was fluid, changing, and he understood.

Luke was at risk. It was sink or swim. He wasn't afraid- at all. Other times he'd been too busy trying to survive to take the time to be afraid. There was no doubt, no regret. Han and Leia were at Bright Tree Village, and all he wanted was home and family. He had never changed. If his home and family were short lived, well, he'd do something to make sure others had the chance.

He settled comfortably in the body conform chair, because he might as well. "It won't be a long trip," he commented to his father conversationally. "It's our last chance, huh, to convince the other."

They had talked, briefly and unsatisfactorily, on a leisurely and surreal walk to the shuttle. Luke had decided to play his whole hand, blow it all in one discard. He wanted to see how Vader would react if he knew Luke wanted to save him. He had invited his father to escape with him. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he envisioned a speechless and stunned Mon Mothma, but they could cross that bridge when they came to it. If they came to it.

Vader had declined the offer. What was more, and infinitely more puzzling to Luke, Vader had expressed a willingness to kill Luke. "If that is your destiny," he had said. That was the moment Luke had shut himself off from his father.

"What would you say," Vader's low voice, silky and menacing, asked him.

"I don't think there is much _to_ say," Luke admitted. "About that. You've said your piece. You want me to be your son but you don't want Anakin Skywalker to be my father."

The sound of Vader's measure breathing was the only answer.

Luke regarded his father, unreadable, and sadly unreachable. If he took the suit off, Luke thought, what was underneath? Would he see a man? Would Vader recognize himself?

"What happened to you? I mean that," Luke lifted his chin to indicate the black suit. "I don't want to hear about the dark side."

"It is my bond to the dark side," Vader said curtly. "And to my master."

"Seems more like a prison," Luke observed. He glanced down at his cuffed wrists, his own symbol of being a prisoner. "Is there something you'd like to know? Before either of us dies? About me, or my childhood? What you missed?"

Luke himself had questions, many. His mother's name for starters, but he reminded himself, as personal as this was for himself- and Vader, too- it was also a mission, for them both. And he would try as hard as he could to succeed.

"It is too late for that." Vader had said something similar at the landing pad. He was a fatalist, Luke decided, self absorbed, with little regard for history. Han would say he was the one you don't invite to the party. "I am more interested in your development through the Force. You have become much more powerful since I last saw you. Did killing the Hutt aid you?"

"Killing the Hutt?" Luke echoed blankly. Did Vader think Luke had toyed with the dark side? He decided to take credit it for it, and protect Leia. "It was a nasty place," he said carefully.

Vader nodded, and the black suit completely concealed any sign of character, but Luke sensed appreciation and pride. "You did the galaxy a service."

"It was all for my friend," Luke stated, looking defiantly at his father's mask.

"The smuggler? Captain Solo?"

Luke nodded. "Somethings are too big to fix by yourself," he said sagely. "But friends are too important."

Vader's fists clenched in his lap. "Was _she_ there?"

Luke's brows went up. Of course he knew who Vader meant. He was the one who ordered Han into the carbonite, so he heard Leia tell Han she loved him. He kept his voice distant. "Princess Leia? Yes, she was there."

The fists opened and squeezed again. "She would do anything for love," Vader muttered, and there was such a darkness in his voice that Luke suddenly knew.

"Is that why?" he gaped, sort of sinking forward from the weight of realization, and he remembered his mother, lovely and blue and full of grace, so horrified by Anakin's sacrifice she answered it by dying. "The Emperor misled you," he said quietly.

Vader made no answer, or maybe he was thinking, Luke thought. There was no way to tell. He looked out a viewport, and floated within the Force. While his father considered how to answer, Luke was on the _Falcon_ a hundred times, lifting off. This stage of a journey up to atmosphere was usually very rough in the _Falcon_ but now his seat didn't shake at all. He felt like he was moving through nothing, or it was the sky that was moving, and his stomach shifted. He decided he liked a bumpy ride. It was in his X-wing, too, and he never got queasy.

"Actually," Luke changed his mind. "There is something you can tell me. About the dark side." He raised his eyes to his father, thinking that since his Force sense was blocked he would let Vader think Luke feared his end. It was what Vader feared, and if he had no other information, he would attribute his son with the same."You said the Emperor is my master now. You said you can't disobey him."

He paused now, staring at his cuffed wrists, fingers curled and relaxed on his lap. "I have the Force," he spoke slowly, not wanting to look at Vader, to keep it to himself so he was strong. And Yoda was right, Luke conceded. "The Force is my ally," he continued. "And it's infallible. Masters are not. If you have the Force, or at least the dark side, and since it's so powerful, as you say, then why do you have to obey a master?" Luke shook his head a little. "It doesn't make sense."

"The Emperor is a Sith Lord," Vader explained. "And I have been his apprentice. The Sith do not weaken the dark side of the Force, and consequently it is only shared by two."

"A master and an apprentice," Luke repeated, sucking on a cheek. "I already knew this about the dark side. That it's not shared, but kept in the dark. I never heard of the Sith, but my-" Luke broke off, not wanting to reveal Yoda or Ben's involvement- "my meditations taught me that." He leaned forward a little. "Have you done the math, Father? If you succeed in turning me- which you won't- but if you do, there will be three."

"There will be two at the end," Vader stated.

"And you hope it will be you and me," Luke understood. "You said as much at Bespin." Luke shook his head again. "I won't help you kill the Emperor. I might try it, on my own-"

"You will not be able to," Vader stated.

Luke shrugged. "Perhaps not. What I'm saying is, either he or I will die. I'll do it for the Alliance, and I guess he'll do it for the Force, but I won't do it for you. I am powerful. I don't need power. I refuse to fall. I'd rather die. And if I lose, what will you do? You'll have lost me. Will you keep your relationship with your Emperor?"

Vader said nothing. His emotions were still carefully shielded, and Luke wanted to demand _take off your helmet_ so he could look in his eyes.

"The galaxy is in a hell of a mess," Luke concluded. "Because of you and him. Where's he from again?" Luke was asking questions, stringing his father along, playing the role of the apprentice.

"Naboo," Vader replied.

"That's right," Luke nodded. "I remember. L- Someone told me." He stayed casual, looking out the window. "Is there water on Naboo? I haven't been there."

"There is. A great deal." Vader's voice was tight. Luke found it an odd description. If it were him, he'd have mentioned how water took form on the planet. Seas, or lakes. Not described a quantity.

"Oh. I was wondering earlier, if the desert had anything to do with it, but I guess not."

"The desert?" Vader snapped.

"You lived on Tatooine, right? Not a drop of water anywhere." Vader seemed to be listening intently. It was hard to tell with that helmet, but the eye holes were directed at Luke. He continued, "Water is so amazing. Do you know on Hoth- you were there- the ice is petrified. Water is everything. It's refreshing, it's destructive. Life needs it."

He looked at his father, his eyes knowing and sad. "I wish we had more time. Every place I go, I learn more about the Force. Don't you? Or did you stop. I bet you stopped. You have to feed all that rage. But it describes itself to me in all sorts of ways. As laughter. Or choice. In colors. And just recently, as water."

Luke raised his wrists to move a finger back and forth between himself and his father. "And us, the Skywalkers of Tatooine, of course it hit us hard, didn't it."

Even Leia, Luke thought, for technically she was a Skywalker. How the Force had surged into Leia, rapid and strong, more than Luke expected, as her lashes fluttered on her cheeks and she said dazedly, "I know." It was- amazing, considering it had taken Luke years to reach the same state. She already was powerful, and Luke took a moment to enjoy a fantasy of brother and sister, humming with the electric energy of accessed Force. _Slow down_ , he cautioned himself. _Not yet_. She needed time. He'd left her in a turmoil, and her feelings toward Vader would not soften. Probably she felt right now as if Vader had taken her childhood away.

How was it she was already powerful while Luke had struggled? He didn't doubt his own ability, but he suspected the reason might lie, once again, in beginnings. Ben's lies had caused the Force he introduced to Luke to be shrouded in deception. That made a big difference, he confirmed to himself. Leia's initial contact with it had been through Luke, out of their bond. He and Leia were already using it together, though she thought- or wanted to think- all the effort was on his part. He brought it in her, opened windows, and showed possibility before she knew the truth.

 _I'm a teacher,_ he realized with some pride. This was excellent. It was something that fit. Something he hadn't realized about himself before.

 _What do you want to be when you grow up, boys_? Mr. Darklighter once asked when Luke stayed over Biggs' house. He and Biggs had all answers.

 _Pilot._

 _Not a farmer_ , one would answer.

 _Racer._

Their answers came faster, with giggles. _Pirate. Krayt slayer. Richest man in the galaxy!_

Luke had an answer now, the real one.

 _I want to teach. Grow a forest of Force-users._

Luke straightened in his seat. They were upon the Death Star. He saw, now he was closer, that it was mostly complete on the western hemisphere. There was a great- pit, Luke would describe it; a hole. It must be the laser canon, where the planet-killing beam originated. He looked down at the moon. From up here, he couldn't tell the location of Bright Tree Village. He couldn't see the dancing swirl of dew drops, or the twinkle bugs. He couldn't see Han or Leia, but he knew they were down there. He inhaled largely, drawing comfort from- just their lives, their friendship.

The shuttle sailed past, into a yawning hangar. His father and Luke remained seated, both shielded in their own Force.

 _We're already battling._ Vader was evasive when he spoke, impenetrable in his thoughts, the dark side keeping Luke from sensing the goodness he knew was there. And Luke blocked Vader, for he wasn't going to show he had had help from Yoda, and he was going to keep Leia safely anonymous, as Ben had planned years ago. _Fighting Force to Force, while we sit. The calmest war there ever was._

There was no more time for talk. Whether Luke had managed to chip a weakness in Vader's armor remained to be seen.


	43. Solutions

Luke sat against the wall, his knees drawn up. He was rubbing the black glove he wore over his right hand, not meditating; not really thinking either. Remembering.

Vader had deposited him somewhere on the Death Star, and told him to wait. Luke couldn't say it was a cell, not like Leia's was a cell on the first Death Star. It was a room, a closet; a space not yet designated with a purpose on this largely incomplete new Death Star. Four walls freshly painted, a door, patterned tile on the floor.

He wondered at his treatment. Palpatine thought this would break Luke's spirit? A wait? The only thing he found marginally distressing was his father seemed to prefer the company of his Emperor.

 _Twice, Father. We've met twice. And now one of us is going to die, and you won't visit me._

And then, _oh,_ Luke saw through it. It wasn't so much the wait as it was the wait for the father.

Luke was remembering the farm boy, who chased after his uncle on the way to buy some droids long ago and far away.

What would he say to himself, if he could go back? He had a choice, as he always did. He could try and change things, or he could give himself a warning.

 _Tell Uncle you can fix the red one's motivator._

Or-

 _Tell Uncle you won't submit that application. You'll stay on the farm._

Or-

 _When the holomessage pops up…_

But he would do it all again, he realized. Even if he knew, he would still go to Ben. He would still become Luke Skywalker, one-handed-

Luke broke off, looking sadly at his hand, feeling his throat grow tight.

 _Tell Beru to tell the troopers it's okay to let them know her nephew went chasing after the droids. Tell her not to let them inside._

 _Make sure you tell them you love them._

And he saw, he would still let them die.

Luke looked up at the wall, his face grieved. They would still die, like that.

And there was nothing to say, except why? If Ben, or Yoda, saw it would have to happen, would they force themselves to come to terms with it, accept it? Why would they do _nothing_ about it?

Looking back, at all that happened, it was their deaths that was the one point that continued to bother him. Did it have to be a forming moment in the development of Luke Skywalker? Could it at least be not so hard, so brutal, for them? Could he go back even further? To Owen and Beru at their wedding, their only trip off planet. _When the man comes with a baby, don't take him in._

Ben knew who Luke's mother was. Luke was pretty sure of that. If Anakin was such a good friend, surely Ben would have a sense he had fallen in love. And he could have taken baby Luke to his mother's relatives.

But no. Ben wanted the baby to be a Skywalker.

Would his mother's relatives have died too? Adolescent Luke would come to love those people. It was his nature. He was eager to love.

One-handed son of-

He used to say evil. Son of a Jedi, son of a Sith. It didn't really matter. They were the same.

The cruel thing was, with all these Force Maybes, Luke would have become Luke if he wasn't raised by the Lars. If he went instead to an orphanage, or if someone on his mother's side raised him. Ben should have. He could handle the troopers if they came after the droids.

"I am Luke, though," he whispered to Beru. And his mother, for he felt that's the most the two women wanted for him. The others, though-

Luke had been treated with varying degrees of self-interest and manipulation. A whole list. Owen hoped his nephew would be a moisture farmer. His father wanted Luke to be just like him. All he was was Luke, and Ben didn't want him to be Luke; he wanted him to be the Luke that was worthy of the good friend and cunning warrior he had lost. Yoda wanted Luke to become the Luke who would restore the Jedi. The Alliance, too- be a Jedi and win this war for us.

Well, they were all wrong. He wasn't the Jedi Ben or Yoda trained him to be. He wasn't the son Vader wanted.

He was Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and he'd worked damn hard to get here. His was the color green, and he was loyal and true, and the thing that made him brave was his love for his friends.

Luke nodded slowly to himself. This part of his wait anyway had been productive. The reinforcement of his own motivations, separating them from everyone who thought they had a hand in him, gave him a certain strength.

He wasn't here for the Order. The deaths of Owen and Beru had started him on what was a deeply personal journey. He couldn't really fix anything. This wasn't about revenge. He couldn't go back and warn Owen and Beru, he couldn't give Leia Alderaan back, but he could put a stop to what had been set in motion.

When he told Leia about Owen and Beru, she had cried. She couldn't yet for Alderaan, but she did for two people she'd never met. Just because she knew they had taken care of Luke. Ben had not. Ben had merely clapped him on the shoulder.

But he did agree with Yoda and Ben: there was something wrong with living with only the dark side. Two. Always and only two.

But if Vader intended to kill Palpatine, then he would rise to master, and obviously he hoped Luke would become the learner. What if he didn't? Was there a Force-sensitive out there somewhere who would become a Sith, just like there were Force-sensitives out there Luke hoped to find one day and help them become Jedi? What would Vader say to the prospective learner- _here, start hating now, so you can become my apprentic_ _e._

Luke wouldn't wish to train in the dark side. To constantly need fuel- hate and desire, jealousy and power. Passion, Luke supposed. Everything in excess. It seemed exhausting. How did one learn that? He let himself pretend, envision the Jedi Temple as a place of dark learning. Master Yoda would be there, inflicting beatings, starving the learners while he gorged from his stew pot.

Han, Luke suddenly thought. The one memory Han had shared of his childhood, a home _I'd burn down if I had the chance._ Luke's pain from his aunt and uncle's death stemmed from love. It was very different from the pain of a child who had none. His imagination put Han in the Temple, and still, even with the man's dark thoughts, he could not see that Han would ever willingly surrender himself completely to the dark side. He was too contrary? No, he was more than that. He had heart, but it had to be hidden deep, and he refused to give it away, unlike his father. And he would show it, like a twinkle bug, quickly and quietly, until someone noticed it.

And too, while Luke didn't know much about children, he did know the emotions of the dark side came early in life. He could remember having a tantrum because Beru said no. He could remember being afraid of monsters; he could remember being jealous of the gifts Biggs received on his birthday. But he was just a kid! He'd learned, with the gentle parenting provided by his aunt and uncle.

This reassured him. _I don't think I can turn. I don't think I'll be able to._ Why his father was stunted emotionally was his problem, not Luke's. And having a son wasn't going to work a miracle.

The way it looked, as it stood right now, based on things Vader had said and the fact that he hadn't come to see Luke in this tiny forsaken room, Vader would choose the Emperor. Maybe even agree to kill Luke if that's what the Emperor ordered.

 _I'm a teacher_ , he reminded himself. He was going to have to work it so Vader learned who, or what, the Emperor really was. It was going to be a painful lesson for his father. For Luke, too, probably.

It was a delicate balance, a precarious situation. It reminded him of a riddle posed to Leia on her cosmography tour. They were visiting a remote part of a world that was advanced, yet Luke would call the humans there mystics. "Worse than the old man," Han had muttered. The settlers were very aware of Alderaan's absence from the night sky, and very aware the planet had been destroyed because of war. Leia attempted to sway them to her side of the cause when an Elder spoke.

"There is a solution," the Elder told Leia, "but it must be worked out for itself, because of itself." And he told them a story. The details were faded from Luke's memory- the world also brewed a potent ale- but it was something about a merchant needing to cross a river with three items, but his ferry only has room for one besides himself. He can't leave two behind on the departing bank that might eat each other; nor can he deposit two on the other side for the same result.

When they returned to the _Falcon_ , he and Leia had sat down at the lounge table. Luke had fetched a washer, a bolt, and a nut. Each represented a food chain they were familiar with: one was a wampa, another a tauntaun, and the third was a beetle borer. They bent their heads together, discussing the riddle. Leia thought the Elder's clue was important. "For itself," she would repeat softly. "Because of itself. What does that mean?"

Luke thought it more of a simple puzzle, and decided the mystics were pulling their legs. "He can't take the wampa," Luke said, moving the washer and embarking on a solution. "The tauntaun will eat the beetle borer."

"But if he takes the tauntaun, then whatever he brings back next will either get eaten or be eaten."

Han, who had dropped into the bench after plugging in the coordinates for their next destination, listened and watched while they slid pieces of hardware across the holochess table and something always ate something else. Finally, he spoke up, "why is your seat always empty on the return trip?"

"What?" Leia had blankly asked.

"He could take something with him when he returns."

"The idea is to cross," Luke pointed out. "Not bring back."

"Yeah, but he wouldn't consider himself crossed until they're all on the other side, together, and uneaten, right?" Han shrugged. "And he's bringing himself back. I don't know. I'm a shipper. An empty hold is a waste of space."

"But he's not getting paid for the return trip," Luke said. "So why-"

"Keeps one on both banks and no one gets eaten."

"You mean," Leia frowned down at the bolt, "bring the tauntaun, and then the borer, but when I return bring the tauntaun back with me? And leave it on the bank?-"

"And get the wampa," Han slid the washer across the table.

Leia put the nut with the washer. "The tauntaun gets two trips."

"Right," Han smirked. "And no one gets eaten."

A parable for war, Leia had called it. She took it to mean rulers. One was a despot, conquering all worlds; one lived peacefully, an easy victim, while the third had the power to seek both peace and hostility. Han found it the straight forward logic of shipping, while Luke thought it taught flexibility and initiative.

"If the Force ferries me across," Luke muttered to himself now, "Vader and Palpatine remain behind and don't kill each other. Status quo. But when the Force brings either one to me, I could kill my father or the Emperor kills me. So-" Luke stared at a spot on a wall- "I get two trips. I'm prey _and_ predator."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Luke's Force, whole and complete, capable of light and dark, right and wrong, was weaker than Palpatine's. It wasn't unfair, just true. This was the conclusion he came to after more of his continued wait. His legs had fallen asleep, his ass grown numb, he had paced, then thought some more.

The dark side didn't need but one. It had two, because those Sith, or whatever they were called, didn't want death to break the flow, so a second was always nearby to transfer the power. The Jedi needed each other, but now Luke was the only one.

When before he wanted to go back and issue himself a warning, he would go back to Yoda and point out the exact moment the Jedi Order had gone wrong.

How many thousands of years had they operated without a threat? A real threat- not just a conflict on a world. A threat to their own existence. And instead of drawing together, banding together out of love and respect and admiration for each other- _each other,_ Luke emphasized- they had looked to the Force.

The Force needed them as much as they needed it, Luke knew; Ben, student of the Temple, had told him as much. _It is created by life, and life creates it._ The Jedi stood, above and apart, even from themselves, and so the Force became drained, and the Jedi Order was purged.

But it was impossible to purge the Force completely, and here Luke was, on the Death Star, all by himself. He wanted Leia by his side, but he knew he couldn't have her. The risk was too great. If he failed, and she was with him, then truly darkness would rule the galaxy.

He was breathing fumes. It smelled like fresh paint, but it was the dark side. Dizzying, disorienting. He stuck his upper arm across his nose to keep a clear head.

He thought he might be hallucinating. He saw Han and Leia, her head tucked neatly under his chin. They were here, impossibly, on the Death Star. They looked a perfect fit. Han looked so- satisfied. Leia's eyes were closed against his chest.

Luke couldn't figure it out. He got up and circled the image. Was this the dark side at work? But they looked perfect, and complete, like artwork. "Leia?" Would they move? What about the fight? Wasn't it dawn by now?

He sat back down on the floor, feeling helpless. "I miss you guys."

But he wouldn't think of that. It was on the list of things he barred from his mind. No Leia, for neither Palpatine nor Vader- especially not Vader- could get a sense of her. No Han either, because of the strike on the generator and the impending battle. No, the Emperor could obviously not learn of that. Third, his own demise. Was there anything else?

They wouldn't come. He had fixed it so no one would leave the moon. They had a job to do down there, and he had one up here.

But he was cheered. _Let's see…_ He counted all the times he had set out to rescue someone and had to be rescued himself. And that was something he wanted them to laugh about at his funeral.

After he got tired of counting the dots in the pattern of the tile floor, Luke found himself wondering where the garbage masher was.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Emperor had two things Luke wanted: his lightsaber, and a view of the moon outside a wide viewport. Palpatine sat in a chair before the duroglass, and he patted the lightsaber like it was a pet, or he caressed it like it was a lover, and it was disgusting.

As soon as he entered the room, and ascended the wide staircase side by side with Vader, Luke felt- different. He couldn't describe it. Physically, he was glorious, his body a stranger. But in him, edging under like a fingernail prying… Luke knew he shouldn't, but he would, for Leia, because she should know. A great storm, behind the eyes, he would tell her, and small thoughts. _You can't. You will. They. They._

Like being pursued, hunted. Luke marched away from his father to the viewport, and stared out at space, at the moon, at the lights which flared like twinkle bugs.

Not stars, he realized. Ships. Hundreds of them.

He turned, accusation in his eyes directed at his father, and felt an odd jolt, a wavering of the will before it was quickly replaced with obedience.

"It was I," the Emperor gloated in his moldy, crusted voice, "It was I who provided the Alliance with the location of the shield generators. It was I who-"

Luke stopped listening. His eyes went from his father, whose own eyes were hidden, hollow and lifeless behind his mask, to his lightsaber, held prisoner by the Emperor, and back to the moon where he desperately wanted to know about Han and Leia.

 _It was I-_

The war. Leia had told him, during the Clone Wars, Palpatine led _both_ sides.

How had they missed this?

 _It was I…_

The beauty of Alderaan, the gentle love of Beru, the anger of a child who would burn the memory of his home down…

 _It was I._

It was Palpatine, all of it, always, and Luke felt sick. His chest heaved and his lightsaber quivered.

 _He's not up there counting screws,_ Han had said.

 _No, Han. He's not_ , and Luke had the answer now. He was waiting. He invited the whole Galactic Alliance here, all the parts of the galaxy that were not his, and he was going to destroy them.

The Death Star was operational.

Palpatine's voice mocked Luke with a fake sorrow, "I'm afraid your friends will not survive."

 _Protect me,_ Luke breathed, and he wrapped himself up in life, the small gestures, as Leia had taught him. The sound of song, the touch of a hand, fish jumping in a great sea. Yoda would call them attachments. But these parts of him- Luke supposed they were sentimentality- were inaccessible. They were his. Unlike his lightsaber, they couldn't be taken, or stolen. They would die with him.

Luke felt his Force bloom and called his lightsaber to him. It jumped gleefully into his hands. Now was the time. He couldn't count on his father; he knew that. Vader wanted to destroy the Emperor but he might lack the willpower on his own, so it was up to Luke.

His sword was a bright green in the dark room, and he brought it down over the Emperor, who merely sat, his eyes closed and a lustful smile on his lips, and Luke's was met by Vader's red blade.

His father swung again, and Luke parried, advancing a step. His technique wasn't much, just strike, again and again, but he pushed each time, adding the Force, like a gale wind, and Vader was forced down the steps, back to where they had entered.

 _I can kill you,_ he sent to his father, but instead he lashed out his foot and kicked his father the rest of the way down the steps. _But see that I don't._

All the while the Emperor cackled, and Luke watched his father tumble, recalling they had entered together. Once Beru had to take Luke to a school conference, and they both knew he was in trouble, but still Beru entered at his side. Trouble was once, Luke thought; he definitely heard about it at home later, but solidarity was forever.

The Emperor called out with that same weird lust, "Strike him down, and take your rightful place at my side!"

Luke closed up his lightsaber, satisfied. Surely this was the moment. "I will not fight you," he stated to his father. Surely he had won his father back to the light. There was no mistaking the Emperor's plan. He wanted Luke to kill Vader. The Sith rule would continue, but with Luke as the learner. Vader would be dead. To the Emperor, clearly Vader was nothing. This had to be a low blow.

Unless Vader already knew that.

Luke awaited his father's reaction. Vader approached steadily, his red lightsaber glowing brightly. He loomed before Luke, his breathing even, untroubled. Luke found himself creeping slowly backwards up the steps again, his back toward the Emperor.

"You are unwise to lower your defenses," Vader said calmly, like it was just a lesson, and he hurled his saber at Luke.

The support struts broke, and Luke fell with them. He clambered to his feet, a panic seizing him for the first time. He had failed. Vader would kill him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of the battle, ships firing on each other, thoughts of Han and Leia in captivity on the moon. He could see them, surrounded, hands on their heads. Soon they would be told to stand on their knees, and a gun would be placed against the back of their necks; Leia's fine elegant braids would be matted with blood. Han's lifeless body, the general, would be dragged through the forest-

"Your thoughts betray you," Vader informed him, his voice coming very close.

He was almost out of time. He would join Han and Leia in death. But he never wanted that for them. _Think,_ Luke told himself. _If you can't think of how to save yourself, think of how you can save-_

"Sister," Vader said, amazement and- relief?- in his voice. "If you cannot be turned," he spoke to Luke, "perhaps she will-"

"No!" Luke bellowed, gripped by a paralyzing fear he had never felt before. But his body filled with that glorious movement, and that edge he wanted Leia to beware of was pried up all the way, gaping and open. Luke was hurt, wounded. His father would drop him, kill him, never think of him, want him, for her. _My sister,_ he slashed. _Leia. You won't have her._ His lightsaber punctuated each thought. _Never. Never._

A hum was in his ears, green. The Emperor cackled and Vader wheezed. Her image rose to him; her eyes were brown while his were blue, but they were twins. They had been through the death of their mother together, and it was their father's fault. _I love her. I won't let you. I love her like you can never know love; not since our mother loved you-_

The rhythm hypnotized him and he lashed out, the rejection killing him. And he was scared, because what if Vader did find Leia?

It could always have been her, Luke knew. She could be the Jedi and Luke the soldier on the moon. He had always wondered why it wasn't so. He understood now. She knew hate and anger; her belief in the power of love made her strong. She was already primed for the dark side. Luke would let his aunt and uncle die again, but Leia would protect Alderaan at all costs.

His head hurt, and he didn't think he was seeing, just Leia, soft against Han's chest; her pain was gentle and full of hope, and he felt love. Soothing, healing, gratifying love. He saw it, and he saw her, them. Their bond, making the Force grow, Luke's Force, and it was strong.

Love, his and hers, the life he wanted for them, and Han, that they would give him a place to stay; to live and love, and it breathed on him, and then he became aware it was Vader's breathing, harsh and desperate, and still the Emperor laughed.

"Fulfill your destiny," he encouraged.

Luke was in striking pose, his lightsaber over his head when he came back to himself. _I already have,_ he wanted to say. He looked down at his father, who lay on his back, defenseless, the lights on his lifesuit dancing faster than they had before. Trying to regulate his system, Luke realized. He had come dangerously close to killing him. He still could. But that's what the Emperor desired. Wires stood jaggedly from the edge of Vader's wrist, and Luke rubbed the fabric of his own glove against itself.

He could kill his father. He never thought he could, but the moment was here, and it would be easy. He knew that now.

But not for the Emperor. "You failed, Your Highness," and he tossed his lightsaber away. "I'll never turn to the dark side. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

Vader was trying to get up. Luke was going to help him. He would show his father kindness, what he hadn't seen in a long time, even though he'd never been kind to Luke. But Luke had done it. Broken the cycle of the dark side. He had won. Vader was no longer fighting. But he was not defeated. Luke heard him sigh in acceptance, and the only emotions he felt were sorrow and pride. But the Emperor's lips were quivering oddly and Luke couldn't peel his eyes away.

"Then you will die," the Emperor said, a hard tone in his voice and eyes.

There was more noise, and Luke didn't know how he'd fallen to the ground, but his body was jerking and twitching; the room was filled with a blue light, blue behind his eyes, and he thought of the shimmering form of Ben. Then it stopped, and he grabbed his legs and chest, feeling for his body, feeling like he was disappearing.

He checked on his father, who was trying to roll to his knees, still not able to stand, and when the room turned blue again Luke shut his eyes on it, and realized the noise he heard was him screaming. _Get up,_ he tried to say. "Father!"

It was too much... he didn't want Leia to know his last moments like he knew Beru's and Owen's. He didn't understand how he was dying. His body was not his; there was no pain, just a writhing he couldn't control. But his thoughts were clear. They were Owen and Beru. _Is this what it felt like? Will it be quick?_

He wanted it to stop. Everyone was in the room but Vader was the only one real. "Father, please!" His teeth were shaking in his mouth. Electricity spawned from the Emperor's fingers. He'd never heard of such a thing. He didn't know it was possible. "Father," he gasped, trying through clenched teeth to impart his last will. _Promise you'll leave Leia alone._

Screams on screams, the room was screaming blue. It crackled with a terrifying energy, and though Luke's body was released he curled into a ball, shielding his head with his hands. This was not seduction. This was not easy. Had Yoda never toyed with the dark side? It was awful; it was draining the room of life, sucking Luke away, and his body slid. He gripped at the floor, arms flailing, trying to get a hold of something. Where would it take him? What would it do with his mind once it was finished with his body?

Determined, Luke held on to Beru, to the suns setting, and to Leia, refusing to let awareness go. He plucked bursts of sensation from the room, like catching twinkle bugs in a jar. Racing Biggs, Owen watching in disbelief as Luke spilled some water, Han letting little Lucky nibble the fingers of his glove. There was funny and sad, some was painful, but he took them all, whatever he could find, and when he found his mother he sent her to Vader, showed him how she had named her babies and told them, _Know your father was good before,_ and then she had died. "Father!" Luke shouted.

And then it was quiet. Luke stayed curled up, listening, sensing. He was dead, then. It had happened. He had died. Silence, no discomfort. Was he in the Force? Had he managed that? He'd forgotten- he'd meant to be absorbed, but he was so surprised by the blue energy; he forgot to harness the Force around him.

Leia. He needed to find her. First he would assure her he was fine. It was alright to be dead. She needn't be sad, or angry. He had tried valiantly, but he had failed, and now that it was done, and all he had was eternity, all his struggles became unimportant.

But hers weren't. _I did it for you, Leia. Please don't be sad. Don't hate our father. For a moment, I think I had him._

Soon, he would open his eyes, but for now he would stay within himself. Soon, he'd check for the blue glimmer that Ben appeared to him in. _Or would mine be green_ , Luke wondered. _I'd like it to be green._ Force Maybes opened up to him like avenues. Wide and unobstructed. Would Vader seek Leia? He didn't like the first one he sailed- _I'm sailing-_ down. Leia was dead, at the hands of Imperials, Han's body not far from hers. Not by his father, at least. The next, and Mon Mothma was watching her with pride as Leia made an acceptance speech. Han was there, too, Luke was pleased to see, wearing a proper uniform and beaming at her. Luke found himself down another- he was sitting at a table and she was bouncing a little girl on her lap. _You're a mother!_ he exclaimed and twisted in his seat. Sure enough, Han was there, folding his hands over his eyes and saying to the little girl, "boo!" Luke kept looking. Where was the one where she ruled the galaxy, Empress Leia?

How would he find her? It was too bad Ben never told him how to travel as a Force ghost. Given the odds, it would be a useful lesson. Could he find Ben?

 _I'm thinking an awful lot, for a dead person,_ Luke told himself. He took an assessment. _I can feel my heel on my ankle. It's kind of uncomfortable._ He opened his eyes finally. _It's dark in here, but I can see that. And I hear-_

 _I don't think I'm dead. "_ Father?" The dark side had brought Luke across the room and a small circular railing had stopped his body from falling down a pit. Vader was at Luke's feet, his armpit caught in the railing, his breathing coming in short, squeaking rasps.

"Help me, son," Vader said.

Luke glanced out the viewport as he settled Vader's weight on his shoulder. The battle was in full swing. X-wings buzzed close by.

"They're close," he murmured, more to himself than his father. "They must have broken through." A joy filled his chest, like warm water. "The shields are down!"

"You must get away," Vader spoke brokenly. "The Death Star will be destroyed."

"I'm not leaving without you," Luke declared, and with his father as his burden- fitting, he thought ironically- he found the way out.

Vader told him which way to go to reach his shuttle. The lights in the corridors were on emergency settings, and alarms blared all over. Personnel hastened in all directions, and Luke thought for sure someone would stop and shoot him, or offer to help Lord Vader, but they made their way on their own.

The Death Star shuddered, and Luke lost his balance. He and Vader fell. "We're almost there," he panted to his father. "I can see the ramp." He tugged at his father's shoulder. "Father-"

"Luke, help me remove this mask," Vader managed to say.

Luke didn't know why he told his father in protest, "but you'll die." He knew Vader would- he knew Vader _had_ to. Then he realized, he was asking for another shuttle ride. Another few minutes, in life, and he felt like a little boy. _Just one more, please?_ He had his father, his real father, Anakin. What he'd always wanted, but thought he'd never get. He tugged on his father again. "I've got to save you," he insisted.

His father lay stubborn, heavy like the dead. "You already have," he tried to smile. "Let me look on you," Anakin struggled to say, "with my own eyes."

Without the helmet, his father's voice was soft, like Luke's. His eyes were blue. Years in a lifesuit had rendered the skin hairless and pale, but he was a man. Little crinkles appeared at his eyes. "You were right, Luke," he whispered.

Luke tried to memorize the features, the tenderness in the eyes, the way he tried to smile. _He's remembering,_ Luke thought. _He remembers._

"Tell you sister, you were right." Anakin dropped his head exhaustively on the floor and closed his eyes.

Luke looked around wildly, thinking to call for help, but the Death Star shuddered again and there was a rolling noise, like thunder. He dragged his father up the ramp, and left him on the floor. He started up the shuttle.

"Wait for me, Father," he called back from the cockpit. "I need to get us away. Don't- just wait."

His heart was thumping in his chest, jumping to his throat whenever he thought of the man lying on the floor in the back. _Hurry up,_ he begged the engines.

"Father," he shouted, though he knew Anakin wouldn't be able to get his voice to carry to the cockpit. "I wish you could see this- the Death Star's breaking up. I see internal explosions. And-" hey! There went the _Millennium Falcon._ He watched his favorite ship loop, and he smiled, tears springing to his eyes. He keyed the ship-to-ship.

 _"Millennium Falcon,_ " he hailed. "Captain Lando? This is Luke Skywalker." After the words were out he remembered it was General Calrissian.

"Luke?" Lando's incredulous voice responded. "Where-"

"I'm in an Imperial shuttle. Your aft. Could you advise the fleet not to fire? I'll be landing."

"Consider it done. But what were you-"

"Later. I gotta go. Skywalker out." Luke keyed off the transmission and jumped out of his seat. "Father? Be right there."

But as soon as he left the cockpit he saw Anakin was dead. He stood there a moment, lots of emotions rolling off him. Shame, that he let his father die alone, anger at his father for not waiting. Stupidity, because what did one do in the presence of a dead body? Should he try and revive it? Move the body? He opted instead to power down the settings for the life suit and the little lights stopped dancing. Then he covered the body with Vader's cape.

It felt odd to take a seat, when there was a dead body on the floor. He sat next to it on the floor. _Father?_ he searched hesitantly. His father's body was whole. He was not absorbed, like Yoda or Ben; not consumed either. _Be one with the Force,_ he encouraged his father. _Come on. Don't make me have to explain you._

He would tell Leia their father was dead. And he would tell her she was right- the mystics were giving a clue. The riddle had another solution, one even Han hadn't thought of but maybe he should have. After all, he had dumped his cargo of spice so he wouldn't get caught. For itself, because of itself. One would leave the departing bank and never arrive at the second. It would drown in the river.

Was Vader drowned, or had he sacrificed himself? A little of both, Luke decided. "I already told Leia," he told the body, which remained solid and heavy, "there was still good in you. She didn't believe me. It's not going to appease her, you know. I suppose that's why the Force won't take you." He drew his knees up to his forehead and tried not to start crying. "I can't wait to get back to her."

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 _Ding dong, the Emperor's dead! There'll be one more ROTJ chapter, because we need to celebrate, and at least one epilogue. We have to set up a safe future for Leia, Han and Luke, and make sure a certain giant corporation does not enter this galaxy. Thank you, readers! I love you for being you!_


	44. Surrender

He couldn't stay next to his father's body the whole trip, and anyway, what would be the point? The Force was a lot of things, but it didn't make one immortal, it didn't make decisions, and it didn't land shuttles.

His father was dead. He was free. Nothing could touch him. It was just a body, wedged behind a seat so it didn't slide about during lift off. But- _sorry, little descendants._ Luke rubbed his chest, feeling like he couldn't do it. Couldn't tell the story anymore. Ever again. Living it had been hard enough.

Atmospheric re-entry clanged, and that's why Luke stood. A symbolic shift. _He's still dead_ , he could hear Han say, and he followed him- him? Force Han? friendship?- to the cockpit, _and he's gonna stay dead_ , stooped and aching. He had opened his shirt and seen no marks on his body from that blue dark energy but he didn't feel right. Emptied, like a bad night in the 'fresher. He supposed it was natural to feel exhausted, but he worried it might be a bit more than that.

The Force was real. Luke knew that; knew it when he took a breath. It had been used as a weapon but the fact there was nothing to point to, no proof or reason for his vague pains, nothing a med droid could explain- did that make them not real? And maybe it was the jaundiced lighting of the cockpit, his skin reflected in the black of his shirt, or maybe it was the blaze of the blue energy from Palpatine's attack that seared behind his eye lids, but his skin seemed to cast a blue pallor. He put a hand at the juncture of his hip and thigh, where it felt like he might snap in two, and the ache was- became remembered, imaginary. It lifted; he was wrong: it didn't hurt there, but here- it had migrated, and he rubbed his chest, chasing it away, and it filled his head.

It wasn't real for everyone. Not for his mother, who had loved a Jedi, nor for Han. _Whatever_ , Han had said, dismissing the whole concept when Luke asked him, _You. I believe you._

The Force was real. But it was also... what was the word? ... Imaginary? ... Faith? It couldn't be measured. It wasn't something definably physical.

"Well done, Luke," Ben Kenobi said.

Luke inhaled, steeling himself. Ben wasn't real either, not really, but Luke wasn't surprised to see him. He rather expected him. Bright light, shimmering and blue, had clapped a hand at his shoulder. There was no weight.

Beru was real. Ben was the crazy old hermit, a legend. And then it had only been a few days aboard a battered old freighter, Luke blocking remote shots he couldn't see, and Ben was never Ben; he was Obi Wan, his father's best friend, and his father killed him.

That's what this was about. What was real; real to Luke, and what mattered. He was too tired to answer Ben. He wasn't sure what he'd accomplished had been done well, but it was the best he could manage.

"Do you feel the difference?" Ben asked. In death, made up of the energy, he was cheerful.

Luke took in the blue that radiated out of Ben, and then down at himself, and he realized that Ben's aura and Palpatine's attempted Force murder were one and the same. "No," he said.

He took a seat, and Ben did, too, a ghostly copilot who was no help at all. Luke keyed the communications and selected an open frequency.

It flared to life immediately, crowded with conversations, instructions and orders. The disconsonant sound blistered Luke's ears, and he sought the volume control while he gazed out the viewport, trying to match sound and sight. There was a great deal of ship traffic: huge ships, floating; a good number of shuttles much like his own- officers, Luke guessed, who saw the imminent destruction of the Death Star and escaped- squadrons of Ties, X- and Y-Wings, only a couple still fighting, like the last sparks of a dying fire.

"- my garden-"

"- to land. Repeat-"

"- on the fish tank immediately!"

Now Luke could listen without wincing. "What's a fish tank?" he wondered.

Ben seemed to sniff deeply. "It's like the air after a storm. Wonderful. You have restored balance to the Force."

"Tie squadron _Adjucator_! Return and break the fish tank. Repeat-"

"Surrenders will not attempt to land. Repeat, surrenders will not attempt to land."

"Where are you?" Luke asked Ben. While he watched all the ships he learned what a fish tank was. It was Imperial jargon for the Mon Calamari Star Cruiser. A poor joke on the beings' need to breathe water. The Imperial Star Destroyer _Adjucator_ was firing upon it; her last stand, and Luke thought what a lovely ship the Calamari built.

Ben was amused by the question. "Where do you think?" He leaned forward from his hips a little in the seat. "I am dead, Luke. I am in the Force."

"And there's fresh air to breathe?"

"The memory of it," Ben conceded, bobbing his head to the side once. "A life well lived is rich in the Force."

Luke sighed. It was more of Ben's infinity nonsense speak, but he had always been a sucker for it. "I want that," he said softly.

The same message looped again, in a calm methodical voice. "Repeat. Surrenders will not attempt to land."

"You will have that," Ben told him gently.

"Did I make a mistake? Did I go too far?" Luke looked back at the seat where he knew his father's body was hidden.

Ben followed his gaze. "He was your father," he said gently.

"They'll call up to the _Executor_ , make sure Vader is not on board, and they'll check each Tie, and what they really want to know is that Darth Vader is a million pieces of particle mixed up with an exploded battle station." He rubbed an ache on his forearm absently. "What did he give me, really. He's dead- he's-"

 _I'm angry at him_ , Luke realized. Vader had it easy now, didn't he? Or Anakin, even easier. Luke was left to deal with his legacy, his deeds. And he'd stupidly left himself having to account for his body.

He slashed a hand at the air, helpless. "Why does he have to look like- Why does he have to look real? Why couldn't he be like you, or Yoda? I'm- I want to be done. What's the Force want from me now?"

 _Responsibility,_ he answered himself. He was the last Jedi, and maybe he was again the first. He was to start over, gather the Force in its users, lay down a philosophy where light and dark were co-rulers, and prevent the creation of a Vader or Palpatine from rising again.

The war might be over, Luke realized. It finally hit him. Not the Death Star exploding into pieces, not the death of his father, but all these pilots out here. Surrenders.

The war was- over. It was hard to believe. Luke would never have imagined it, but victory was incredibly sobering. Looking back, after the first Death Star he couldn't even remember receiving instructions for landing at Yavin. But then, sadly, he, Wedge, and Han were the only ones to return. He remembered he couldn't wait to land, find Leia, and there was so much... energy, or something, built up in him, that all he could do was shout and jump.

Luke watched the _Adjucator_ fire at the Cruiser. So different, he mused. Technically, it should be over, but it wasn't clean. After the first Death Star, he had thought the war over, as simple as finishing a story put to flimsi. You closed it up and that was that.

He thought then he had brought Leia victory. That all he had to do was destroy the Death Star. But then time passed, and they built another Death Star, and his father was part of all that had gone wrong... Now all he wanted was Leia again, but he just wanted to hold her tight, and not move, forever if that was possible, because Alderaan would still be gone, and there would be no more fighting.

"Perhaps," Ben ventured carefully, stroking his beard, "it is for your sister."

Luke scoffed. "You think that will soften her?" He thought of the ugly head of his father, bald and scarred, the look of peace on his face she felt he did not deserve.

Ben raised one shoulder and let it drop. "It is proof. At least she'll know he didn't escape."

"True," Luke nodded.

"And you see how she is with rubble."

Luke opened his mouth, about to ask what Ben meant, but he thought again of that moment coming out of hyperspace, _a million voices silenced_ , the ship rocking and bits of rock hurling themselves desperately at the Falcon. Leia had witnessed the planet's destruction; Ben was right. She didn't know it at the time but she was Force-sensitive and the rubble was the voice of her planet- the only sign of life she had left.

"She collects planets," he told Ben, who answered with a sad small smile. "Their stories." Luke fought off a sudden need to weep. "I have- my sister- she's-" He broke off, wondering what this moment was like for her, wishing he was there.

He shifted his gaze from the ships to the moon. He wondered if Leia were like him, gazing up at the sky and feeling that sense of terrifying openness, that weight of sadness. _All these lives_ , he thought.

"I'm tired, Ben," he said now. "Did you see what the Emperor did to me? Something's wrong." Luke held up his hand, half expecting it to glow. "I feel..." Luke struggled to describe it. "Like I'm breaking up. Big chunks of me falling off. Not pieces of me really; you see I'm whole, just... myself." He checked his other hand, because he probably wouldn't notice if he did lose the prosthetic, but it was still there.

"He attacked you with pure Force. It causes a counter effect on your own sense."

"It feels like I'm disappearing. Fading." It was exactly what Luke had described to himself as he lay screaming and writhing. He'd been trying to hold on to himself. So he wasn't surprised, or even saddened, to learn this. It explained a lot. And it was interesting to know. Something new about the Force, something- and he gathered his will to execute the thought, to root him to his own life- something to teach.

"Have you ever experienced anything like this?" Luke thought of the history of the Jedi, of the masters in the Temple, studying; of the Knights in the field, witnessing.

"Yes, I am familiar with Force lightning," Ben admitted.

"Lightning," Luke repeated. So that's what it was called. "It didn't kill you though. You didn't fade." Luke saw Ben on the Death Star, his lightsaber stilled, a telling glance to Luke before Ben let Vader strike him down. _The Force will be with you, always._

Ben read his thoughts. "I was not murdered," he reminded Luke.

"Ah," Luke said, a little bitterly. "Choice." He stirred in his seat, angry again, at Ben, Yoda, his father. At one who definitely chose and at others who made the non-decision to wait. At one who couldn't kill his best friend but expected that friend's son to do it. He wouldn't say anything, though. It was pointless, done. It was choice. Who was he to say they had judged wrong? He'd made a few bad ones himself.

"You do not have to surrender to it."

"No. I know. I'm recovering. Slowly. 'Cause there's nothing here. For me to grab onto. Because- there's life, and…" Luke could grasp it, with his mind- he was so close, but his tongue… _I'm a farm boy_. "There's life, and there's life in the Force."

Ben smiled, his aura gentle and paternal. "Some call that death."

"I'm only twenty-three. I haven't…" to say _not lived enough_ wasn't true; he'd had suns rising and adventure, and heartache and joy. A lifetime of experiences, really, but his body was far from spent.

He told Ben, "Sometimes there's no choice. Like for Biggs and Dak. It was over like that." Luke snapped his fingers. "It has to be true for Jedi, too. We're just bodies. We're physical. And we die."

"Of course you are correct. My own master was killed,"Ben revealed. "I have often wondered-" Ben broke off, eyes focused on a memory. "I wondered, if he had- if there was something other than the Force, like desire, or will… if he had- if there was... any attachment, to me-" he broke off again.

"- if he would let the Force help him survive," Luke nodded. "But he surrendered. My father remained- that's what the life suit was, right? All those injuries." He looked sharply at Ben, who had most likely inflicted those injuries, whose own attachments wouldn't let him kill his friend. "He had the Force, what Palpatine gave him, and he still wanted… life. He wanted my mother."

"You need peace," Ben nodded. "And rest."

"My mother should know," Luke said. "It's a shame, that she won't."

They were silent a while, listening to snatches of voices, some furious, some wistful.

"Repeat-"

"- wait to see my-"

"Captain Vyrkar," someone hailed, "you closed the hangar."

"Fight, you cowards!" one who might be Captain Vyrkar shrieked. "Protect the ship! Defend your Empire!"

The Star Cruiser was firing back, Luke saw, assisted by some Y-Wings. Its target looked so odd, a Star Destroyer with no Ties.

A new voice, familiar but tired, sneaked into the ten second window of the surrender message loop, "Think twice Tie squadron," and all the other noises fell quiet. "The Alliance is taking prisoners but your Captain'll get you killed."

"I think that was Han," Luke told Ben, who raised his brows and nodded with polite interest.

"Give it up, Imps!" another voice took up a sudden crowing, and a Y-Wing barrel rolled past the shuttle. Luke strained his ears, wanting to hear the first voice again.

"Surrenders will not attempt to land. Repeat, surrenders will not attempt to land..."

No, it wasn't real to Han, who ignored Maybes and became a general. Not real to his mother, who thought death was the only way to reach her love. "You weren't around the non-Force sensitives much, were you?" Luke said to Ben.

"I was brought to the Temple very young."

"And you protected them. So you don't really know what they're like, except when they need your help."

"I knew your mother," Ben said. "She was exemplary, even without Force powers."

"But you're just telling me that," Luke rubbed his temples, feeling it too important that he had to argue. "Like someone reading a biography. You still only knew her- or interacted with her, let's say, when she needed your help. Or you needed something from her."

Ben turned his gaze from Luke, and whether he could see the Adjudicator begin to list Luke didn't really know.

Luke flipped a switch. "Request landing clearance on the Endor moon," he spoke into the microphone. Just where was this control tower anyway, monitoring all this ship traffic? The Galactic Alliance had matured with speedy efficiency, he saw. The _Adjudicator_ was now being towed in a tractor beam by the Calamari cruiser, her Tie detail flying behind her like in a funeral procession.

"Imperial shuttle, be advised mobile docking ports are on their way," a mysterious voice reported over the open frequency moments later. This one sounded human. "Ships will maintain their orbital path until a docking port becomes available. Surrenders are not to attempt to land."

"There's an awful lot of ship traffic," Luke remarked to Ben. "Docking ports are a good idea." Still, he had no intention of using one and then being shuttled to the moon. He felt- territorial; he was shuttle crew, damn it, and he was part of the Ewok tribe. He ignored the transmission.

Ben rubbed his palm over his beard again. "Your father loved her very much."

The moon grew closer, and Luke could discern the topography of the trees. "The thing about the non-sensitive," he lectured to Ben, aware they seemed to be having separate conversations. His voice was soft. "They still have the Force. They can't feel it, but it's there. So they don't need you." Luke waved his hand. "I mean the Jedi."

When he could see the gap in the forest where the landing pad was situated, the mystery voice hailed him again. "Imperial shuttle, request acknowledgement. Surrenders are to be made on Home One. Use a docking port as one is assigned."

Luke finally responded, since most ship traffic had drifted to an area of space, and Luke stayed separate. "Endor moon, are you talking to me?"

"Affirmative, Imperial shuttle. All ship traffic must maintain an orbital path. Surrenders will be taken as space becomes available. Line up with the others."

"But I'm not a surrender," Luke answered. "Request clearance to land on Endor moon," he repeated stubbornly.

Response came quickly, almost automatically, with a sigh. "Per the General's orders, shuttle, absolutely no landings on the moon. General Solo doesn't want a whole fleet on the ground. He says the forest can't handle it."

Oh, so it was Han. Luke recognized it in the voice; the kind of shrugging, _mine is not to reason why_ , minor anti-authoritarianism underlings felt toward a superior. It was novel to hear it directed toward Han.

"I intend to use the landing pad," Luke answered.

"Repeat," the voice seemed to be losing patience, "all ship tr-" The voice broke off, interrupted by someone else evidently in the control room. "No, sir. Yes, sir, I know. Only three are to land on the pad. This one's not Antilles' Rogue, and it's not General Calrissian's ship-"

"The Falcon is not his ship," Luke heard someone snap.

Luke stirred. He knew that voice, and it was like salve. "Han?" Luke said. "Control, tell General Solo it's Luke Skywalker in the shuttle."

"Wait, sir," the control officer was saying off mic, "the shuttle pilot claims he's Luke Sky- sir!"

"Luke?" Han had apparently wrenched the tech's relay off his head. "You need assistance?"

"Han? Are you OK? How's Leia?"

"More interested in you right now," Han grunted and the concern had Luke feel dizzy.

"Follow his sense," Ben urged. "Do not surrender to the Force as your father has. Attach yourself to him."

"I'm not surrendering," Luke said to Ben, though everyone must have heard. The comm tech probably thought he was crazy. He thought of the pilots, thinking out loud about a garden, or going home, or even still wanting to fight, and Luke tiredly wondered what the reaction would be if he said, _Han, what should I do with my dead father's body?_

"Can you land that thing?" Han asked him.

"Yeah, of course. It's just- I don't know. Is it over?"

"Stop babbling," Han said. "Other beings got real worries on this frequency. Chewie's on his way."

"I'm fine," Luke tried to assure him. "I'm- I'm not hurt, but I think the Emperor sucked some of my Force. Or my life. Something. I don't feel right."

"Acknowledged." Han sounded like a distant general, and Luke wished he wouldn't. But after a pause, he added, "And kid- yeah, it's over."

"Han-" Luke paused. He still had no idea why he felt so irrationally sad, and relieved, and frightened. "- congratulations."

Maybe Han was feeling something similar, for he didn't answer right away. Then he finally said, "you, too."

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Han was squatting besides Luke's seat, looking at him and talking to someone else. Ben? Luke wondered. Could he see Ben? He smelled of pine oil and his white shirt was dirty and he had the light of twinkle bugs in his eyes.

"Hey, moon," Luke said, pleased.

Had he dozed off? He didn't remember the landing. He blinked at Han.

"See if this bird has a medpack," Han called over his shoulder.

"How you'd get here so fast?" Luke said.

"And if not pull one from that Walker!" Han turned to Luke. "We rode an AT-AT. Carries more than a speeder. If we got to carry you."

"Something," Luke said. "My head hurts."

"Chewbacca will find the body any moment," Ben said quietly.

"I need help with it anyway," Luke said.

"What?" Han snapped.

"Do you see Ben Kenobi?" Luke asked Han, gesturing at the copilot seat. Ben's arms were folded across his chest and he was smiling at Han.

"I hate when you do that, kid," Han said, his hand on Luke's skin.

"Your hands are cold," Luke complained.

Han took his hand away. "Sorry."

"He was my father, Han."

"I know. You told me. S'long as we don't see him, too."

"Well, you might," Luke said, and in perfect timing there was a roar from the passenger area.

Han stood and took a step out, and then whirled back to Luke. "Luke! I don't care if you're seeing ghosts and I don't care if your head falls off. What the fuck is Chewie sayin'?"

"You would know better than me," Luke murmured. Ben's shimmering light was gone, but that was fine. Luke would take Han, even pissed and not understanding, any day. "I told you," he answered Han wearily, "he was my father."

"Yeah, and? So? I got a father, too. I don't go dragging his corpse around!"

Luke opened one eye. "Is your father dead?"

"It's yours we're talking about! Chewie- no, never mind. I need Wicket. Go get him." Luke waited as Han digested Chewie's added description as he exited the shuttle. He could hear Han breathing loudly through his nose. Then he lowered his face to Luke's. "Did you kill him?"

Eyes closed again, Luke swayed his shoulders side to side to say no instead of shaking his head. "No. Some of those marks are mine. But it was the Emperor- he stepped in for me."

"The Emperor was gonna kill you?"

He couldn't beam very brightly at the moment, but Luke felt proud. "I didn't turn, Han."

"That's great, kid. Leia tried to tell me you knew what you were doing, but it sure looked to me like you went to join your father. I can sit?"

Luke grinned as Han indicated the copilot's seat. He nodded. "I didn't mean to cause a rift between you."

"Especially when you ask for a ride! You thought- you asked him to join you? Why didn't - or better, you could've- And he did?" Han abruptly shut his mouth. "I won't say it now. I can see you're fragile so I'll chew you out later."

"I know I deserve it, but believe me, I put a lot of thought into it. I know you, Han. And I know her. I had to do it that way."

"The Wheel all over again, huh? Leia was sure you were alive, too, so I'll give her that. Nah," Han rested his boot on the console, "you can't cause a rift. Gave us something to argue about, though."

"It was a trap," Luke said. "Everything. Down to the shuttle. When did you realize it?"

Han stared at Luke. "Fuck," he said. "You'll remember we considered it flyin' in. Knew for sure when a whole legion of troopers had us."

Luke's eyes widened. "How'd you get free?"

"The Ewoks unleashed their furry brand of hell on 'em," Han said with a sardonic grin.

"The _Falcon_ survived," Luke switched to the others involved in the trap. "I saw her coming down."

"Yeah. You, and Leia n' Chewie." Han actually looked emotional. "Lando keyed in. He'll be landing soon. He's helping set up a flight boundary. Luke," Han tossed his head in the direction of the passenger area. "What are we supposed to do with him?"

"That's the one thing I wasn't sure of," Luke admitted. "He was alive when we left. I didn't want him blowing up."

"Why not?"

Luke smiled again. "But-" Something was being waved under his nose. It was moist and warm, and smelled of earth and dirt and flowers. He jerked his head forward. "Hi, Wicket. What's he doing?"

"Wicket's training with the- whatever the Ewok version of a medic is. Leia got shot. He-"

"What!?" Luke bolted straight up, feeling some energy return. Connections, he realized. Attachments. Something to tie him to life. "What? She's hurt? You let her get sh-"

"I didn't let anything," Han snapped back. "She took a hit, is all. Bolts were flyin' everywhere. We lost two from the strike team-"

Wicket stomped on Han's boots, demanding he add something. "- and some tribe." Han patted the air in front of the Ewok cub to get him to settle down. "Anyway, he helped a lot. Found me this spittle stuff that's a coagulant. Leia chewed on some plant and I think she's high. Not in pain, anyway. And she's talkin' like you, seeing ghosts."

"Is she?" Luke was fascinated and wondered if somehow their Force bond had strengthened, where they could share not just thoughts, but feelings. "Who is she seeing?"

"Her father."

"Which one?"

Han gave Luke a dark look. "We'll talk about that later. You know the Ewoks are gonna help some of our soldiers dispense with Vader," he warned.

"I know," Luke agreed worriedly.

"You need to get rid of him."

"But how?" Luke squirmed. What an awful thing, to speak of dispensing with a body. Even already dead, it seemed like murder.

"Completely. So no one can dig him up, and sell pieces of him-"

"Sell? Gods, Han, this is a body we're- this is a person-"

"- or have any doubt that he could have survived-"

"No, but-"

"Chewie! Siphon some of that fuel out of the Walker." Luke couldn't hear Chewie but Han was obviously responding to a question, "I don't know, use a helmet if you can't find a bucket. Not much."

"Fuel?" Luke asked.

Han was thinking as he talked, his mouth quirked sideways. "We'll take it past Bright Tree Village. We'll use those logs they were gonna cook us with."

Luke hoped Han wasn't suggesting roasting the body of his father and offering it to the Ewoks as a feast. "Build a pyre?" he said to be sure.

"Yeah, burn it all. Don't even let the Ewoks have his helmet to drum on."

Luke considered it. On Tatooine, the dead were buried, but he heard of planets, like Coruscant, where land was limited and space at a premium, and bodies were cremated. He would prefer burial, but Han had a point. And he wasn't likely to just be able to take off for Tatooine right now.

Then there was the question of where. Anakin might want to lie next to his wife or lover, but her identity was still unknown. "I forgot to ask Ben," Luke sighed in disappointment.

"Hm?" Han said.

"About my mother," Luke answered. "I'm trying to decide."

Han shook his head. "You don't often make sense, kid."

Another choice was Anakin's mother Shmi, whom he had buried in the fields of the Lars farm, but Luke had a feeling Owen wouldn't really welcome the remains of his stepbrother.

"Alright," he finally relented. "We'll build a pyre. But I want Leia to be there."

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 _Not done! It's been too long between updates, and I wanted to offer something._


	45. Fire

AT-ATs were modeled after some beast, though Luke didn't know if there was a specific one. Definitely a lateral mover, one leg at at a time. Whatever it was, the excessive arrogance of an Imperial human strove to improve the design of whatever nature had intended. Stretch the legs up a few stories, add the capacity to carry a legion of troopers in its belly. Give it photo lens and infrared vision, cover the hide with armor, and place blaster beams in the jaws. The one time Luke had seen them in action was on Hoth, and with a nod to the human designers, he admitted it had been a tough opponent, though not indestructible.

The vantage point was different; Luke appreciated being so high up. He could see into the trees, as well as over them; Endor looked fresh and changed, blessed with a new perspective. Chewie had the right leg controls and Han the left, and they worked as a seamless team, just like always. Luke considered how his father and Ben had been such a team, and how it was the Force- its twofold light- that drove a wedge in between them. Luke swayed on his feet behind Han and Chewie in what would be the head of the mechanical beast. He held Han's comm, in case it chimed again. There had already been a few calls: subordinates with questions, superiors with orders.

Victory was like a fast moving current, Luke realized with a pang, threatening to sweep Han away, but Luke wasn't allowed to reach out a hand and hold Han back. The same went for Leia. Was this how their story would end? They were now the Jedi, the Princess and the General, but didn't they still have need for each other?

Luke's personal victory, the body of his father, was in the cargo area. Han had ordered Chewie to cover it with a tarp before they moved it off the shuttle.

Funny, Luke mused, how death had a way of making its presence known. Han tried to kill Vader when he was alive, but he wouldn't even wait in the passenger area of the shuttle as Chewie wrapped Vader's body.

Once the Walker was underway Luke decided he wanted to know why. "Han, when he was alive you weren't afraid of him."

"No," Han agreed. "I hated him more."

"He can't hurt you now. He could then, and did. That's when you should have been afraid of him. Instead you shot at him."

"I was mad," Han said. Chewie grunted, indicating a large tree in their path, and Han nodded, raising his hand to toggle a lever to get the head to angle to the right. "All that time to Bespin, and- Never mind."

"Never mind what?"

Han shook his head with a scowl. "It was a hell of a way for the trip to end."

Luke watched as the legs followed the new direction and adjusted his balance. The tense trip on sublights to Bespin had obviously softened in Han's memory.

"The Princess was afraid," Chewie said.

Luke and Han spoke at the same time. "She was?" Luke was surprised.

"No, she wasn't," Han muttered.

"You grabbed her hand," Chewie pointed out. "She was going to run."

"No, she was the same as me: shoot the bastard, except she didn't have a blaster. She was going to snatch one and try and escape. Not run. It didn't seem right to shoot a princess in the back so I grabbed her. We were in a damn dining room. I figured if we couldn't kill him we might as well listen to what he had to say."

"You played a Maybe," Luke said.

"I played at survival."

"But- I still don't see why you think Vader is worse now, now that he's dead, than when he lived. Are Corellians superstitious about dead bodies or something? What can he do to you now? Nothing."

"It's creepy."

"Creepy?" Luke said, thinking that was no reason at all. His father's body didn't disturb him in the least. It was devoid of the Force, and that alone let him know he had accomplished what needed to be done. It was like evidence.

"Humans do not like to be reminded they will die," Chewie observed. "You are a most strange species. You cover the bodies up or burn them because you do not wish to see them."

"Or because we loved them," Luke pointed out.

"It is a body. That is all. Things associated with death- the smell, the bloat, the rot- that is all the personal discomfort of the living."

It was a rather graphic description, Luke thought. "Again, it's out of love, or respect for life. Because we don't want to see that happen to those we knew."

"It is ugly," Han granted. "And who are you to call us strange? Wookiees don't talk for five days around the dead 'cause you think you might wake 'em up."

Chewie's head turned quickly to meet Luke's eyes. "You still talk of your relatives. The love has not died, eh?"

"No, it hasn't." He was silent a moment. "Did we ever find out what the Ewoks do?" Luke said, thinking of the helmet drums.

"Yeah. Golden God was kind enough to inform us. They're regarded as, well, like a tree."

"Because they consider themselves part of the tree," Chewie put in.

"When a tree dies," Han explained, "they... well, they use it."

"You mean-"

Han nodded meaningfully. "You saw the logs. Stripped of bark, drained of sap and cut to size. Get the picture?"

"It's a lot of work," Chewie observed.

"Bodies are- what? Fuel?" Luke asked with a shudder.

"Or tools. Might be bone on those looms they make. Whatever works," Han said. "Right? On Corellia, they're sunk on the reefs."

Luke tried to imagine dropping a body in water, much like he had dropped the three bodies out of the _Falcon's_ air lock into space and watched them float away. He made a face. "Ew. Are there a bunch of bodies floating around?"

"No," Han laughed. "They're weighted. There's burial reefs. The bodies are consumed, by mollusks and crabs and stuff. Picked clean."

It explained Han's discomfort anyway. The dead were kept out of sight, hidden from view.

"By the living," Chewie said. "Not a spiritual recycling, like with Wookiees, but a physical one. Still, it is done out of sight."

Han shrugged. "We're practical."

"To the extreme," Chewie said.

Luke watched the view out the window, letting his friends' banter lose focus. He about agreed with Chewie's assessment. Han's pragmatism was why they were steering a Walker through the trees, away from the landing pad and the prying eyes of the recently anointed New Republic.

It was almost an eagerness. "Now. It's got to be done now," Han had insisted when Luke showed reluctance.

Luke came up with a few reasons why he didn't want to do it right away. He told Han he was tired, he wanted to see Leia. He should check in, debrief, see a medic.

Maybe it was easier for Han because there really wasn't anything to tie him to Vader, except for bad memories.

 _But your memories aren't good either_ , his inner voice reminded him, and that was true.

It wasn't that he wanted to hang on to his father. Especially after listening to Chewie. He had no desire to experience death's unpleasant aftereffects. Luke wasn't sure really what was bothering him. Maybe he was trying to hold onto Han and Leia. Maybe he just felt rushed. Han and Leia had paths dictated for them; Luke was completely on his own. He found he did not like that.

"Luke, it's not just now. You've got to think of the future," Han badgered him as they rode, eyes as high as the tree tops.

Luke flinched. "I do all the time," he said, a little offended. "When I meditate in the Force, I see- paths. What can happen. I call them Maybes."

"Have you looked? Because even I can guess some."

"Well," Luke stared at the back of Han's head, but Han interrupted him.

"Start wth his connection to you," Han pointed out.

"Well," Luke said again, "either it disappears, with him..." he felt overwhelmed, thinking about it. Was it because he wouldn't have a father again? "Or, it becomes known."

"Right-"

"Either I... embrace it, allow it-"

"Without Leia's consent- s'that comm off?"

Luke glanced at the unit in his palm. "Yeah." And yeah, he added inwardly, Vader could divide him and Leia. "Or we both reveal it," he continued.

"Or someone else does. So which is it?"

"It's a choice," Luke said. "You see the Maybes, and you decide which one you think is best."

"It's a gamble," Han concluded.

Which was why Han had been so good at Maybes, Luke thought. "Right. What are you doing looking towards the future?"

"I'm thinkin' of Leia," Han admitted. "You know she's going to jump into politics. And I'm thinking of you. What if you start some more Jedi things, and someone lets slip the leading Jedi is the son of the worst Force user the galaxy has ever known?"

Luke saw where Han was going with this line of Maybe. It was their reputations, his and Leia's, that were at stake. Their lives even. For fear was a very dangerous opponent.

Han said, "Is there anyone in this galaxy besides me and Chewie that could know-" Han glanced suspiciously at the comm again, making sure no one could eavesdrop, but he spoke carefully anyway, "- what Vader was to you? and- her?"

Luke shook his head.

"You're sure? There's not some Moff out there that Palpatine used as insurance, or some Admiral that survived the Death Star?"

"I don't think so, Han. I don't think my father told anyone. He thought his child died. He never even knew he had twins. And I don't think Palpatine told anyone either. It's what he held over my father."

"What about someone that was alive during the Purge. Mothma? Rieekan?" Han was thinking out loud. "Someone who knew who Anakin Skywalker was, who knew Le- Viceroy Organa."

"No. Everyone's dead," Luke said, and it was true. Anyone that he could think of that had anything to do with the turn of Anakin Skywalker, the death of his lover, and the birth of his children, was dead. "Ben knew, and Yoda. The Emperor. Viceroy Organa and Leia's mother." He'd listed these names like they were characters in a book, but he had two more to add. "My aunt and uncle," he said. "And they're all dead."

Everyone, Luke thought. _Everyone._ Was that intended? Was it that important? _Safely anonymous,_ Ben had said.

Leia, Luke thought.

"We'll wipe any trace then," Han said tactlessly. "Get rid of him once and for all, and you and Leia can live without waiting for the bomb to drop."

Luke let Han's gruff manner go. "Tell me about Leia," he said.

"Well," Han pretended to concentrate on making the Walker turn again, and seemed reluctant to speak. "She doesn't know what you brought back."

"I'll tell her."

"No. It's better coming from me. She had a- you said I'd help her, remember? About dealing with Vader." He glanced at his comm again. "She had a bad night. You know. Before the battle."

Luke knew. "When I told her. And then left her."

"Yeah. She kept saying she didn't know what to do with you."

Hurt, Luke flinched a little. "What did she mean?"

"She was- worried. That you'd pull it off. She said you wanted to save him?" Luke nodded. "She didn't want that."

"She was just shocked," Luke tried to wave it away. "I told her I know he needed to die. I think I did anyway."

"Damn it," Han swore as the comm rang a sixth time. Luke keyed it on and passed it to him. "Solo," Han said and frowned as he listened. "No," he frowned. "General Calrissian cannot. Absolutely not." Han listened some more. "Because it's my moon," he said.

"Your moon?" Luke said with a small smile. "Careful, Han. That's how empires are made."

"Right now it's a war zone, and I'm the active general. My zone. My moon."

"You're also an honorary Ewok, so I guess in a way it is your moon. No," Luke returned to the topic of his father, "I needed him to turn back; renounce the dark side. It was for the Force, not me. Or her." But if Luke were honest, it was important to him that Vader should die in the light. "It's not like I was going to rebuild a family."

"You know how she is. She settled onto the idea you might get killed, and started a plan on how she was going to avenge you and kill him herself. That took most of the night. Then we had the battle, and she got shot-"

"How bad is it?"

"Not bad. Left arm. Upper left. She could still shoot. -And that pain killer Wicket gave her is a narcotic, I think, so she's a bit out of it. More than she'd like, I bet. She knows the Death Star blew, but she hasn't even asked for Mon Mothma yet. She told me- I was dressing her wound, she'd already chewed that stuff- it worked fast. Remind me to tell everyone tonight to not taste the local flora. I was wrapping the spittle stuff, and she told me it was like looking out from her tower window at fireworks."

"She was Leilei?"

Han shot him a glance. "No, she was Leia, wounded and high. - And that you were fine."

"She felt me, then." Luke's grin was involuntary. "What about Vader?"

"I don't know; we didn't talk about him. She was focused on you. I'm still trying to get used to you two as related."

"We were always like brother and sister together anyway," Luke dismissed Han's concerns. "I think it'll be good for her, to see him."

"You mean see him burn."

Luke swallowed. "Yeah." This was what he had trouble with, the fire. He really didn't think it a matter of Tatooine culture. He'd never really given it thought before. But he found it unsettling. "It makes it final, you know. All those things he did to her, but he can't anymore." Something Han said earlier finally sank in. "Did she think my wanting to save him was me choosing him over her?"

Han lifted his hands from the controls to rock his palms back and forth. "Not that." His head took the sideways rocking motion. "More like you forgive him."

"I guess I do." He saw Han make a face and spread his palms again. "Not for everything," Luke jumped to defend himself. "When I think of the man, the Jedi- killing all those beings is- it's unforgivable. What he did to Leia. But, as a father, I can see how frightened he was, how lonely. And I feel more sorry for him."

"I don't," Han said flatly.

"I know."

"And she don't, either."

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He was supposed to be helping gather kindling for the pyre. That's what he told Han anyway. He suspected Han knew he was lying, and he could feel Han's eyes on his back as he moved away into the shadows.

There was so much life in the forest, Luke thought. It was silent and steady. Even the sky- he realized with a start daylight was fading again. A whole day had passed, since... since there was an Empire. He was just tired. Since he'd had no sleep, since the fight, since… death weighed heavily on him.

Even here, where he had wandered into the forest, death was part of life; the fallen branches and spider webs were a constant reminder the two aspects needed each other.

There was life in death too, he supposed, also steady, also quiet. No one wanted to experience it, though. Well, it made sense. The living didn't surrender easily, did they?

The greatest of opposites, Luke reflected, Life and Death.

He found the Force-sensitive tree and sat against it. A whole day since… time began.

How different to be a tree, he thought. To stand here, and watch, and have time pass.

When is your beginning, Tree? Luke asked. When is mine?

He thought he knew; he thought he could pinpoint it, but then something, Time, made him go back.

He used to say it was Leia's holomessage, that plea for help. But now he would say the moment he realized the stormtroopers were after the droids, and he sprinted to his landspeeder and Ben had called out, "No, Luke! It's too dangerous!"

But the beginning wasn't just a moment. It went on forever, all through the ride home, watching the plume of smoke. And time glitched when Luke's heart did, for just a beat, because of what he saw, and what he felt, and it was fear.

That was his beginning. The moment Luke was afraid. But it went on and on, and it wanted to go backwards- _what was the last thing you said to Beru?_ It wanted him to mark their ends by all the time he had spent with them, all the life they had.

He wasn't afraid for himself, and not about the Empire either. He was afraid for them, for Owen and Beru, but they were dead and yet he was still afraid; his fear did not go away.

Luke lifted his chin and scanned the forest. There was an uncharacteristic noise. The ancient tree was amused.

"I'm nervous, Tree," Luke realized. He confessed it to the ancient presence. "I'm nervous about the fire."

 _Nature is dual._

Huh, Tree Speak, Luke marveled, but he didn't quite understand. "Fire killed my aunt and uncle."

 _Fire burns._

"Yes. And-" Luke broke off, unsure of what he was feeling, but certain the Tree understood. Fire visited forests, too. "It was..." He pictured the smoke, and what he had run away from. _My beginning. The end of the farm boy._ "It was so... complete."

He had it now, and words poured forth. "And cruel. They didn't deserve it, to suffer like that. And now, fire will be used again, but to ease suffering. When it was his fault. Indirectly, but still. He knew she placed the plans in the droid. He ordered them traced."

It wasn't fair, he wanted to say. Vader's- erasure, he would call it- was demeaning to Owen and Beru. Somehow. He wasn't sure it was sensible. Maybe it was guilt.

 _Ashes were left._

"Yes," Luke said politely, wondering what the Tree meant. Movement caught his eye, and he saw an Ewok wearing a dark orange head piece dragging a limb twice its size through the woods. The little being grunted with exertion. The Tree gave off an aura of watchful affection. This limb was obviously plucked from the forest floor where it had fallen a while ago. Its leaves were brown. It was for the pyre, Luke realized.

"Leia- my sister-" somehow it was more relevant to speak in relationships than names to the Tree- "she helped me clean the ashes. Years later." What was three years to this Tree, Luke thought. It must be like blinking.

 _And life resumed._

That was true, Luke allowed. He and Leia had taken up residence, brightened the burnt walls with Cut Lace, left tokens of glass in the sand, filled the court yard with the aroma of stone bread. They had prepared, planned, and he watched her budding powers with the Force begin to develop.

"You meant the nature of all things is two-sided, didn't you? Fire destroys, and fire cleanses. My aunt and uncle were destroyed, and I'll be helping cleanse the galaxy of Darth Vader."

 _Ashes will be left._

"The ashes of Darth Vader. You agree with Han, then. That's all there can be."

 _You are who remains._

Again, Luke didn't really understand, but he felt soothed, caressed. Listened to, which right now was enough. He rose, and brushed his pants off, and looked at the ground. He selected a stick, about the length of his forearm, with two other twigs branching off its stem, the needles fresh and green.

It was easy to see which direction to walk. He only needed to head in the direction of the Walker's armored head poking out of the tree top.

The pyre was taking shape. It looked like a thicket. The pile of branches was high, almost as high as Chewie, who was supervising. Little birds flitted down; at first Luke thought they were leaves, but they fell too rapidly, too assuredly to be leaves, and they hopped about in the spaces between wood and leaf.

Vader's wrapped body was on the ground, surrounded by no one, and if the birds could look like tiny leaves then Vader was like a large worm. Luke glanced at it as he made his way around the pyre to Chewie and offered his stick.

"What's this?" Chewie said.

"Kindling," Luke said. "Where's Han?"

"This won't burn," Chewie said. "It's too wet."

"Oh," Luke answered. It seemed terribly significant, and he frowned. It didn't feel wet. What did Chewie mean? Was it blood? Water? The Force?

"He went back to the village to get the Princess."

"What? Oh." Luke looked around. The AT-AT was of course still here, since it served as his beacon, parked in a bit of a clearing it had made for the pyre, which meant Han had walked back. Luke took his branch back and stroked the needles between his fingers.

Chewie stooped to pick up a small twig. He snapped it easily for Luke. "Yours is too green. Makes a flame sputter."

Luke bent one of the twig branches back from his contribution. It didn't snap, but it yielded. If he kept up the pressure, he could rip it off.

One Ewok climbed atop the thicket of kindling, and others handed him thick pieces of stripped wood.

"I think we should start the fire," Chewie suggested. "Before the Princess gets here. Vader will lie there," he indicated the platform the Ewoks were stacking. "It will take a while for the flames to reach him."

Luke sank heavily onto the ground. "I can't do it, Chewie."

"This is not your father," Chewie said kindly. "This is merely the body that housed him." Chewie sat beside Luke and slid his branch out of his hands. "He is finished."

"It's not that," Luke shook his head morosely. "My aunt and uncle-"

"Ah," Chewie understood. "They are finished, too," he said. "But do you know, it is true fire is a destroyer. But it is also a creator."

"How so?"

"At least on Kashyyyk, I'm not sure about elsewhere, there are certain seeds that cannot germinate unless they are in fire."

"They died, Chewie. My aunt and uncle were killed. They're not gonna- they're not seeds." Luke picked up a leaf and threw it. It hurtled itself to the ground in a most unsatisfactory manner. "I can't put Vader to rest when... when I-" _when I didn't,_ Luke finished the sentence to himself.

When he learned Han was going to Tatooine after the Battle of Yavin, Luke asked him to take a letter to the Darklighters; he hadn't mentioned anything about his aunt and uncle. He'd had the chance to return to Tatooine and he waited three years.

"Am I showing him more respect than them?" he asked Chewie now.

Chewie stared into the thicket a long while. _I am,_ Luke answered himself. _He's taking so long to answer because he doesn't know how to tell me._

"Every human death deserves the human treatment," Chewie said in a quiet growl. "It is a sacrilege not to. Yes? You did not handle the bodies of your aunt and uncle, but your neighbors and Han did. They are finished. But him," Chewie tossed his head toward the tightly wound tarp on the ground, "others would allow the bloat and rot, because they feel he does not deserve their respect. But someone like him... what they do not realize is how much he has done in life. No one can deny the impact he had. How he shaped the very lives who scorn him."

"They would say he scorned their lives."

"And they would be right. But his deeds cannot be forgotten, and therefore he should be put to rest." Chewie stood. His eyes twinkled at the Ewoks. "They will not be able to lift him and clamber up the branches. I will help them."

Luke watched as Chewie placed Vader's body on the platform of logs. Then he picked up a bucket and sloshed fuel onto the wood. Wicket approached Luke with a long piece of tinder. The end of it was already in flames.

"Light the fire, Skywalker," Chewie called.

Luke got up, and walked slowly toward the wood. He kept his eyes fixed on the flame, watching as it rose and jerked and threatened as he moved air with his steps. Luke bent to a section of the thicket about a foot off the ground. He held the tinder to the wood and waited.

The fire didn't start right away. He got it to smoke, and leaves curled, but it didn't catch until he found a spot where the wood was wet with fuel. Then it whooshed with a roar. Finally there was an orange glow among the dark of the wood in the forest. He tossed the tinder onto the pile, and stepped back to watch. The tarp seemed to recede. Or disappear, like water on sand. It melted, Luke supposed. Nervous, he stared at his father's mask.

What did he expect? Did he think the fire would wake his father up, because it burned, and he would sit up and get off the pyre? But fire was something the living felt, and there was no reaction from the figure on the pyre.

His chest was heaving and his mouth worked. Leia would come soon. Leia, with her anger and vengeance. Luke, her twin, was sorrow and forgiveness. He hoped, together, they would be justice.

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The pale color of Leia's dress was like a seed borne on the wind. It drifted, appearing haphazardly to Luke as fire smoke gave way, or from around a tree trunk, as if sheer luck brought her here. Then Luke glimpsed Han not far from her between clouds of smoke, purposeful and straight. He had his eyes trained on her instead of on the ground, and Luke wondered if Leia was still under the influence of the leaf she chewed. Han carried something soft and floppy in one hand, and held two small canisters stacked upon each other in the other. Leia's face was directed at her feet, and her left arm was tucked against her side.

Luke was glad to see her dressed as the Ewok ally, the Long Furred one, the one who brought a new history to the Endor beings. This was the Leia he needed and wanted, the princess who lost her planet, the one the rest of the galaxy gathered to hold and love. If she were in the Alliance uniform, it would be an entirely different meeting.

Han pointed, waving the floppy fabric in Luke's direction, and Leia nodded.

Luke stayed where he was. Something urged him, _go to her,_ but he couldn't. He was rooted to the spot, Maybes all around, anxious.

Leia lifted her good arm. "Luke," she sighed, and tears stung his eyes as they hugged.

"How are you?" he asked.

She nodded. "Tired. Fine. Like I'm barely here."

"Me, too. Everything that's happened... And the Force is soft, and barely present." Luke had a good analogy all of a sudden. "Like it took some medicine." They sat down on the ground, backs against a log. Firelight danced across their features and Luke gazed at the pyre, wondering how much she could see.

It depended on what the eye wanted to see, he decided. When he looked at it first, the flames dominated. Fire wasn't something you could hold in your hand, but it seemed solid anyway; it seemed alive. It moved, danced and grew, and it spoke. Sometimes in a murmur, sometimes in a snapping cackle; and underlying the flames was the hum of air, feeding it.

Something was always inside fire, though, and as soon as Luke had that thought, he could see a boot, and on the other end, Vader's mask.

Leia wasn't in uniform. Had she fought the battle in her Ewok dress? But it looked clean. There was no blood on the left sleeve. And her hair was as he remembered during their last conversation, so very long and smooth. He looked at her arm again, and the way she held it close, guarded it. Someone had done her hair.

"Hi," he said, leaning into her, a sad smile on his face. "I'm Luke Skywalker."

She looked at him, the same smile on her own face. "I know," she said. "Once upon a time I didn't, but I do now."

He nodded and smiled. "Once upon a time," he repeated, gratified. Staring into the flames, which flickered and urged him on, he said, "I had to, Leia. They gave me a mission, Ben and Yoda, the last of the Jedi: end the dark side. They wanted me to kill my father."

Leia nodded haltingly, and she swallowed.

"They didn't see, or think- not just what they were asking of me, but what it would do _to_ me. Do you see?"

"I would have done what they asked," Leia said, regret in her voice, "if it were me."

"But you know, don't you? Now." She was beside him, her dress tinged orange by the firelight, and Luke was trying to see the fire rather than what was inside it.

"That's why it wasn't me, then," Leia said. "The one they let be revealed to Vader. I- when my father made sure I knew General Kenobi's name- that it was him I should seek- on Tatooine, I wondered-"

"Me, too," Luke said. "In fact," he laughed a little, trying to get her to relax, open up a bit, "there were many times it caused me to doubt myself."

Han dropped beside Leia. "Sorry we took so long," he told Luke. "This one's yours," he tossed a dark russet cloth into Luke's lap and settled himself on his elbows to stare at the flames.

Luke spread the cloth over his knees without looking at it. He was still intent on the fire. "Their solution was just more darkness," he continued to Leia. "It all comes down to choice. Vader had to be given a choice, one more time."

"Wouldn't change much," Han put in.

"What do you mean?" Luke said, a little irked that Han inserted himself in their talk.

"Sure, he had a choice. What if he made the wrong one? You'd still have to finish him. So it wasn't really a choice, as just another chance."

Luke blinked, thinking, despite his irritation, that was true. "I gave him the choice to save me. You're right. If he chose to fight, to keep trying to turn me, or Leia, then yes. I'd have to kill him or die myself trying."

"You took a big chance," Leia said softly.

"I know. But look how it ended up. I'm me."

Leia smiled.

"So is it true what they say?" Han asked. "About your life passing before your eyes?"

"It did pass," Luke realized. "But I asked it to. It's how I survived, I think. The Emperor was- well, I don't know what he was doing, but it was going to kill me. And I was thinking of you guys."

"You told him about me, didn't you," Leia said. Han straightened, sitting cross-legged, and Leia sank into him.

"It slipped," Luke admitted. "I was- there was a moment, a long moment- I felt I had lost. And that you both were lost too, because of that, and my last thoughts would be of you."

"He touched me," Leia said, her brows raised slightly, as if she were surprised she was just realizing this. "Or I sensed him."

"Really?" Luke said, remembering the odd tone in Vader's voice when he read Luke's thought of _sister._ "What'd he say?"

"Nothing. I'd say he was surprised. Then it went to fury. It was right when the shield controls blew." Leia still looked disbelieving into the flames. "I thought maybe he knew what was going on on the moon."

"He couldn't know," Luke said. "Leia, I'm sorry-"

"What, he was fine with a son but he couldn't handle a daughter too?" Han said.

"It wasn't directed at her." Luke looked at Leia. "Right? You know that? He was furious with Palpatine. He turned to the dark side for nothing."

"I'd take his fury," Leia said. "It made me proud."

Luke exchanged a quick glance with Han, who looked a question. This wasn't the right ending, the happily ever after Luke wanted for his story. _Tell your sister..._ He didn't expect Leia to love Vader, but to understand him, accept him at best... he had pictured a brother and sister united in regret and sadness over their origins, but helpless to change anything. Instead she seemed to embrace a defiant challenge from him, even from the grave.

"I don't understand," he finally muttered. "Proud how?"

"I'm one who- maybe the only one; he had all those sycophants. 'Yes, Lord Vader'. - I stood up to him. Always. Everything I did told him what I thought of him. Told him who I was, too. Leia, Princess of Alderaan, and he never suspected I was his daughter."

She wasn't composing her words, like she usually did. A lingering effect of that leaf, Luke figured. They flowed unconsciously, purely. "And to know that it took you telling him... I had a role."

"He... thought of you," Luke said lamely. "When he was dying."

"Of course he did. My birth was his curse. Yours was his path to salvation. I was the reminder of his turn. Like a ghost, the ghost of Anakin Skywalker, only I looked like the woman he loved, who died because she couldn't bear what he became."

Leia's voice, eminently clear over the snapping, burning branches, held Luke spellbound and he didn't want her to stop talking.

"We stood on that bridge of the Death Star," Leia said, her eyes directed to the atmosphere, "and we watched Alderaan explode together. He held me back. Maybe he was afraid I would rip Tarkin's heart out, or smash the viewport and join Alderaan; I don't know. Maybe he could have chosen then but he didn't want to. But when he held me, and he knew I _was_ Alderaan, I was her Princess, and the rocks burst out, the planet was gone, but no, she wasn't. Alderaan was in me; I took the planet- me, Leia- and..." Leia's voice drifted away, hushed. "... and he failed to destroy me."

She stopped talking. They all stopped. The only thing moving, changing, was the fire. With eventual progression it worked its way through the thicket and began to work on the logs.

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The fabric was the hood, token of membership into the Ewok tribe. Han's was a chestnut brown, in honor of his Wookiee partner, and he and Luke put theirs on even though the Ewoks were all at the village and didn't see. An Ewok's head was wider than a human's, and Luke's spilled over his collar bone and blocked his peripheral vision. Chewie couldn't even wear his as a hat; the Ewoks had utterly misjudged his size and it wouldn't fit past his crown.

He cast his great shadow over them. "Han, I'm going back to the village. I smell dinner. The first shuttle should be arriving soon. And I'll check and see what our False Pilot has done to the _Falcon."_

The fire burnt in earnest now; the flames high and ravenous. They waved Chewie off and said they'd join him soon and Han opened a canister. "Try this," he said, offering one to Luke.

Luke sniffed. There was a powder inside. "What is it?"

"Slag," Han said carelessly. "This one's from welding. The other's just a mineral cleanser, but it burns nice."

"What do I do?"

"Take a pinch and throw it in the fire," Han said. "You'll see."

Leia opened the second canister one-handed and approached the fire. She looked over her shoulder, evidently waiting for Luke, so he joined her. The heat was powerful on his cheeks.

"Ready?" Leia said. "One, two-"

"Three," Luke said, and they tossed the powder underhanded onto the pyre.

Leia gasped and Luke smiled. He turned, and sure enough Han was watching, his eyes gleaming dark from under his hood. The two minerals, whatever they were, burned as colored sparks. Leia's was a brilliant green, brighter than any green Luke saw here on Endor, and his had a range in color. It seemed more flammable than Leia's, and sometimes if the heat caught it before the flames did it sputtered a pink. When he managed to beat the wind and throw it directly into the fire and flared a reddish purple.

Where Han learned this, or if it was even associated with a death ritual, Luke had no idea. But it was a nice touch. He switched with Leia, and they kept tossing powder until their canisters were empty. Then they crawled back to where Han sat and it was cooler. Luke took his hood off. His forehead was sweating. To say that it was a send off, which knowing Han it probably wasn't, or even to say thanks would have ruined the moment entirely so Luke stayed silent.

But Leia understood. "Funerals are for the living," she said.

"Should I say something?" Luke wondered aloud.

"No," Han answered decisively, and Leia stirred dreamily into him, a languid smile playing on her lips.

"I'll say this." Luke thought a moment, and cleared his throat. "Anakin Skywalker, we return you to the Force. You leave nothing behind but Luke and Leia."

"I wonder if our mother had a funeral," Leia said.

"I don't know," Luke said. "Probably."

"Who knows," Leia ventured. "The galaxy was in such chaos at the time. He could have killed her for all we know."

"I don't think so," Luke disagreed. "He loved her too much."

"Once upon a time," Leia said dreamily.

"Once upon a time," Luke continued, "a Jedi-"

"- fucked up," Han broke in. He spoke rapidly. "Once upon a time, a Jedi fucked up and ruined the galaxy and it took his kids to set it right."

"Wait," Leia frowned. "I don't like that story. It sounds like Luke and I are responsible for him, and that's not right."

"It's what happened, though," Luke said. "I'm okay with that interpretation."

"Tell it like this," Leia took a breath and prepared herself. "Once upon a time there was a Jedi who fell under an evil spell, and only his son could free him."

"What about you?" Luke said.

"I fought the evil spell, but you're the one who freed him."

"So it's his story?" Luke said, intrigued. "I hadn't thought of that. That makes us-"

"Free," Leia said. "The Force can let us go, and we'll just live our lives."

That was it exactly, Luke realized. He craned his neck upwards, at the treetops, noticing stars emerging among the fiery Death Star rubble that streaked into the atmosphere. That was the soothing feeling, the restful quiet he had sensed. The Force at peace, in balance. And now-

"I don't know what to do," Luke said.

"Well, Mon Mothma's got us scheduled for a victory press conference," Han said. "I think we're just supposed to stand behind her."

"When will she arrive again?" Leia asked. "Someone told me, but-"

Han's and Leia's voices drifted softly under Luke's thoughts. He could live his life?

"- eighty clicks I think they said-"

He was free?

"- about a triumvirate, but maybe more than three. If she's Chancellor, and then me, that makes two humans-"

Like a Sheltiv, the whole sea its home, just swimming and leaping when the moment felt right.

"-restore the Senate-"

Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight.

"- breaking up slave camps-"

"- three other Death Star designs, but in no where near completion to this one."

"Yeah, for some reason this one became Palp's pet project."

Was that what he wanted to be?

"- have any part of uniform? I lost the great coat-"

Laughter.

"I don't want to stand behind her," Luke said.

"What?" Leia asked.

"At the victory conference. I shouldn't be- I don't want mention of the Jedi, or the Force really, as part of victory."

Leia sat up and finally looked completely within the moment. The narcotic effect of her medicine had worn off. "Why not? I thought-"

"I thought so, too. For a while I did, anyway. I'm the only one, Leia. Well, trained one. Mostly trained. And there's- who knows, millions? out there that are Force-sensitive, and I don't know what to tell them. I know so little. Master Yoda and Ben dedicated their whole lives to the Force."

Leia looked thoughtful. "The Force is part of our galaxy, Luke. Palpatine tried to- to quench it. We can't let others live in fear of it. Especially now."

"I agree. But then how do I not make another Vader?"

"Oh," Leia said.

"And something I realized. I know this breaks a thousand year tradition-" These had been quiet realizations, sneaky thoughts, introduced to Ben and then dropped. Now that Luke was vocalizing them, he felt terror.

"Palpatine broke the thousand year tradition, kid-"

"- but a Force-user has no business in anyone's life."

"Luke!" Leia breathed.

He nodded. "I know. The Force is everywhere, in everything. It's not a tool. It's not for opening doors or lifting droids or Influencing minds. I don't know what it's for, but not that."

"Sittin' around?" Han suggested.

The terror sagged, like someone threw water in Luke's face and he laughed. "I'll start with that."

They returned to the fire. Luke was used to it. It no longer seemed so horrific, or beautiful, or fierce. When the logs collapsed, he thought, _that's fire._ It had nothing to do with his aunt and uncle. This was different.

"I need to go," Han said finally.

"What?" Luke looked around in alarm. Han was calm, even a little apologetic, so different from the smuggler who threatened departure but never acted on it. Leia wasn't surprised or dismayed. "Why?"

"My war zone's having a party."

Luke laughed. "Oh."

"You should come back, too."

"So you're being deployed, Han?" Luke asked, nodding at the invitation. "Freeing slaves or finding potential Death Stars?"

"Yeah, I'll find out tomorrow."

"And you, Leia, you'll be in the chancellorship government?"

She nodded. "Knowing Mon Mothma, in eighty-one clicks I'll find out if I'm one of five co-chancellors."

"Aren't you worried?"

"About what?" Leia asked.

"They're splitting you up," Luke gestured between Han and Leia.

Han pulled Leia close, his hand at her lower back. He kissed her softly on the lips, but quickly. "Deployment can't be worse than carbonite."

Leia's eyes peered to Luke from Han's embrace. "I'm leaving my door open for him."

"And you, kid?"

Luke shrugged. "Hmm," he pretended to think deeply about it. "I've been invited to a party. And then I might sit around some. Can I use your door?"

"Gotta knock first," Han said.

Leia smiled. She reached up and steered Luke away from the fire. He gave it one more glance. Heat waves bounced in the air, melding fire with forest, and the Force was calm.


	46. End, and Begin

_Okay, here we are. I can't age them so fast as the movie TFA had to, because forty years really had passed, and I don't want to. Let Luke, Han and Leia enjoy youth a little longer. This epilogue takes us ten years past Return of the Jedi._

 _ABY- After Battle of Yavin_

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He was Ancestor Luke; that's what he had become, separate and apart. He saw himself as a kind of vapor, something that spread across the galaxy, agent of the Force. That's all he was. And those little descendants at his feet weren't really his. They were the Force.

He watched everyone. Data boards were tucked under sides, holocamera lights flashed. Shuttle traffic between Endor and Home One was continuous, meetings begun and ended. Whether they were working or leaving- like Rieekan, who had accepted a faculty position at the Coruscant Military Academy- they were building; constructing a future out of the last few days.

And Luke was already ancient history. He was so long ago he had no idea what the future would look like, only that he was at its beginning.

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 _General Carlist Rieekan, Ret., Military Historian, in an address to the first graduating class of the New Republic Military Academy, 7 ABY_

... Once, in the center of the galaxy, a shared sun saw life evolve on a number of systems. These were the Core Worlds, and from the moment that first being successfully rocketed himself offworld, a complex system of economy, politics and society spread. It took many hundreds and thousands of years, but eventually it saw the development of the Old Republic.

Membership was not exclusive. The desire for trade, knowledge, peace, and interaction was all that was required. Look at our galaxy! The sheer scope and size of her! The diversity of life within her is a miracle of Time. It is a testament to every being in this galaxy that the Republic peaceably resolved conflicts for a thousand years. At the core of government was that all life deserved to be treated with tolerance, respect, and dignity.

It took one man to bring about its end. In the span of just two generations, Sheev Palpatine secretly manipulated events and carefully whittled away at public perceptions until the Republic was no longer recognizable. In such an atmosphere, few were chilled when the title Supreme Chancellor became Emperor, and some were even grateful. Yet a closet few deplored the loss of liberty, and here we are today.

I do not need to remind you your childhoods began as Imperial citizens, and you leave these halls as members of a New Republic. The fact you must remember in this time of rebuilding, in this time of peace, is that no matter how we may wish to go back to the Old Republic after the Empire, _it still fell._ Fault does not lie with one man. It is our responsibility to see the past for what it was. Do not glorify it. Do not wish for it. But make the future better because of it.

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 _Three days after the Battle of Endor_

"Where will you go?"

It was old Ben who asked him. Even in the shimmering blue light of the Force it was clear he was wearing the brown robes he'd died in. But of course it wasn't Ben; Ben was a mortal being, and Ben was dead. Luke had- it was funny, to think of it like this, like a kid playing with dolls- Luke had dressed the Force.

"Who says I have to go anywhere?" Luke challenged in answer, and Ben smiled, that same pensive, patient smile that waited for Luke to answer his own question.

Three days after the victory, and Luke had taken to making slow laps around the celebratory bonfire, the only one General Solo allowed the Alliance to light. It was huge, built where three trees had fallen together in battle. It was considered bad luck to let it go out, so pilots, techs, and soldiers of all species spent hours off-duty time around it, throwing branches on the flames and heating ready meal kits, talking. It was a gathering spot, but Luke stayed outside its circle, talking to the Force.

He couldn't bring himself to join the revelry. Neither did Leia, who had retreated to Home One above atmosphere, a ready rationale on her tongue, _there's so much to oversee, t_ he entire moon held in her gaze. She might be running from Luke, he thought, or herself, but he let her. It was always good to apply oneself, and the more the New Republic took shape the more Leia could settle Darth Vader's paternity in her mind. He was the reason she was here; Bail Organa was the reason she was Leia.

Victory, Luke thought, was complicated. "Messed up," was how Han summed it. The New Republic was here- complete with insignia, seals, banners and flags. It was remarkable, yet eerie, that all this was ready so soon. "You can't be at war and not prepare to win," Leia had chided him.

Luke said, "I was too busy trying to stay alive. But someone had this as a- a mission? - order fireworks display for the triumph?"

"Transition between governments can be a very chaotic time," Leia lectured. "Think about banks, just for one example, where credits were insured and money safe one day but you wake up the next and those fail safes are gone. And you're broke."

He couldn't shake a feeling of regret, a ruefulness. Maybe he still needed to recover from the Emperor's lightning, for he felt as if he'd lost something of himself.

"Yoda said the Force was his ally," he told Ben now. "But I feel like it's more of a demanding partner."

Ben chuckled sadly. "You have freed it. Much as the galaxy has been released from the clutches of one man, so has the Force."

"I found a Force-sensitive tree here."

"You will find instances like that all over the galaxy."

"Mm." That didn't help narrow Luke's decision. "I suppose I could travel to- where was Palpatine from again? Naboo? I should see if I can learn what makes evil."

"Do you believe place matters?"

"Leia is Alderaanian, through and through, don't you think? And she was brought there." Luke shrugged unenthusiastically. "It's just a thought. I don't want the galaxy to see another one like him. Or Vader." He turned his face toward Ben, to remind his mentor of his own role in the failure of the Force.

"Would Tatooine tell you of your father?"

Luke nodded. "I believe it has." He was silent a moment, thinking. "Or I could go with Leia, to Coruscant. She'll be there two years, serving on the Pentumvirate. The Jedi Temple is there."

"Yes," Ben sounded doubtful. "Tell me again what you know of the Force?"

"That's it's life," Luke answered swiftly.

"There is no life at the Temple," Ben said. "It is a ruin."

Luke already knew he wasn't going to Coruscant. He saw himself tagging after Leia, drifting. She would be busy with her Pentumvirate duties, building a government and advising Interim Chancellor Mon Mothma. She was embarking on her own life, and it didn't feel right to shove his own alongside hers just because his was clueless.

"I'd like to learn who our mother was," Luke proposed. "You know, don't you? Was it so wrong, to love her?"

"It was against the Code," Ben said carefully. "Just that. I thought he understood that, and had made his choice. I didn't realize how much- how afraid he was."

Luke shook his head. There was no point, anymore, in arguing. The Code, in Luke's interpretation, had lost relevancy. If Anakin had been free to love, free to fear even, without shame... He sighed. Palpatine would have found another. Another with a weakness; another who lacked something of the Force, of the simple beauty of life, some kind of love gone wrong. Too much, or too little, or misdirected. _In a perfect world,_ his mother had once said. But there would never be such a thing. "Will you tell me who she was?"

"Does the Force insist you know?"

Luke growled softly. "Deflection is your specialty, isn't it?" But he had an answer. "I'm not going to find out without Leia."

"Then it can wait."

The Force danced around Luke's feet, weaving through trees, and the air smelled of burning wood. It was fragrant, and sad. Beautiful, like care for the dead.

"Move forward," the Force urged in Ben's voice.

"I'm the beginning," Luke realized. "Again. Who was the first, all those thousands of years ago?"

"It was too long ago to know for sure," Ben answered. "There are stories. Scholars can point to a few worlds, a few beings, where it may have risen independently. Or maybe it was shared."

"I'll be like-" Luke hesitated, his voice rising. The Force, in all its Maybes, streamed from his feet. "- a prophet?" It was incredible, wrong. Impossible.

Ben smiled. "You are Luke Skywalker."

"But I don't know anything. "

"You are just starting," Ben said gently. "It looks different when you turn around."

"But-"

"Would they know any more?"

Resigned, Luke shook his head. "Probably not. But how can you master something that's bigger than you?"

Ben placed his hand on Luke's shoulder. "That, right there, is one of the wisest questions I've heard asked."

Encouraged by the praise, Luke turned his gaze to the bonfire. In its flickering flames he saw himself, the old Luke. The one who crawled after his aunt into the courtyard at suns set, and when he was older he trailed after his uncle in the condenser fields. Then he'd followed a Princess through a war, with a smuggler watching his back. There was no one ahead of him now, no one to chase. He was alone.

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 _Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker,_ The Farmer and the Force, _page 87 chapter 4. Publication date 52 ABY._

The Force is almost comprehended, even by someone like me. But it is never completely, for just when you think you understand, it jumps playfully out of reach.

You are alive, because of the Force, and it continues because of you. It is only life. Waking, eating. Hearing the idle hum from a being next to you. A shared look, a touch.

Do not think of yourself as non-Force sensitive, for you are not. You feel, you decide, you live; therefore, you have the Force.

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 _3.5 ABY_

One of the first things Leia did upon reaching Coruscant was not for the New Republic, but for her father. Palpatine had seized the property of those he labeled enemies or traitors, and Leia petitioned to reclaim it.

Luke arranged to meet her on the rooftop of her building, and he scanned the small scattering of humans up here, looking for his sister. He expected to find the One of Five, as the media referred to the members of the Pentumvirate. He'd seen her on the holonews, her hair always up and dressed plainly but voluminously, or simply and severe. Instead Leia was waving at him, showing lots of teeth in her smile, her hair taken by the wind. Her dress was colorful: navy blue background with some kind of floral print, dark orange and white. The full skirt stopped above her knees and played in the stiff breeze, showing flashes of thigh. Her sandals were cream, with a wedge heel, and he bumped his cheek on her head, not used to her coming past his chin.

She led him inside the building and they took stairs down a few levels. "It's a habit," she explained. "When I first got here, Coruscant wasn't exactly secure and the power kept going out. You don't want to be stuck in the elevator, trust me."

She opened the door. It smelled nice, Luke thought. The apartment had actually been unoccupied, Leia had learned; the Alderaan district on Coruscant became an unfavorable place to dwell. The Moff to whom the apartment had been awarded hadn't wanted it. Luke thought it might be musty, but it wasn't. The walls were a pale, buttery yellow. It occurred to Luke how few homes he'd been in, homes that were truly that; more than mere shelter. "Welcome," Leia smiled at him.

"How different was it?" Luke asked. "I mean, had the- whoever took it over, was it damaged much?"

Leia swept a hand over the hall table, which had spindly curved legs and delicate carvings. On it rested a blown bowl, holding the shooting stars set from the _Falcon_ , missing a few pieces _._ Under the table were a pair of tall men's boots, black.

"This was ours," Leia explained of the table quietly. "After the Destruction, Palpatine ordered all Alderaani properties emptied and- you'd think it'd have more value, wouldn't you? Things were collected- for - for trash."

"I'm sorry, Leia."

"But Palpatine had detractors, even here in his Imperial City. Simple residents managed to record holos of items, or identification numbers, and the building they were removed from. Beings took them in their own homes, or antiques dealers stored them. I've managed to find a few pieces that belonged to my family. Underneath you can see where someone wrote 'Organa, Level 81-C'. I'm still looking for others."

They moved deeper into the apartment. Clear duroglass made up a wall, and the view was breathtaking. Luke stood before it a long while, taking in the buildings and air traffic and the sheer amount of life. Leia pulled him away, "you get used to it," more interested in showing him the things that were brought from Alderaan by her father years ago. There was a woven tapestry depicting the Twelve Goddesses on the wall, beautiful dots of color creating a scene of women engaged in dance and music with what might be woodland creatures; another table, wood again, a marble sphere.

Leia put a framed holopic of her parents in his hands. He had seen them before, of course; the images were easily obtained from the holoweb. But this picture belonged to her father, and therefore it had once held his gaze, and that made it the rarest of objects.

In her office across from her desk, on the wall, just like in all of her offices, was a picture of the planet Alderaan as viewed from space. The same one, he noted; one easily available to be printed off from the holoweb. She had this one on archival paper, under glass that filtered harsh light.

"Alderaan," Luke said. "Is it the same?" _You're next to die,_ he remembered.

"A reminder," she said softly. "Of the work we're doing."

Hope, thought Luke. _The last to die._ "It's fitting," he decided.

She kept her bedroom private but down the hall the apartment opened up again into another set of doors and a sitting room. She watched his face expectantly.

"For Chewie," Luke realized with a happy grin. There was a huge hammock, and the rest of the room was fashioned into a kind of terrarium. Moss, and ferns, even a couple of young trees in earthen pots.

"He should be in tonight."

"I though the fleet wasn't due in for three more days."

"Han always returns in the _Falcon_ with Chewie. He gets back faster, and he's there for Review when they land. And this is your room."

Luke wondered, is this me? The walls were a soft green, and the bed was very small. The design of the quilt looked like ripples in a stream. It had a window, and the floor conformed to his feet as he padded inside, and there was a pile of rocks- smooth and banded, lovely to the touch-

He was overwhelmed at the thought that went into it, the love. "It's perfect."

"You better come often. I mean it. None of this months at a time. You and I are fine; we use the Force. But Han doesn't get to see you as much." She scanned Luke. "You don't even have any bags to unpack."

Luke laughed dismissively. "No, I travel light."

She didn't want to go out to eat. Too many beings stopping her, she complained; some to snap a holo, others to lobby for their cause. She had gone shopping though, for them to prepare a meal together.

"I read your article," Leia said from the sink, where she was washing cinder fruit.

"Which one?"

"The one about how to identify Force talent in a being."

"Oh, that one," Luke was pleased. He rolled a head of greenleaf around, looking for bad spots. "On Chandrila, there's a school system developing a curriculum for the Force-sensitive in the classroom."

"You accomplished that in just a few months," Leia marveled.

"As much as Palpatine discredited the Jedi and tried to stamp out the Force, I don't think enough time passed. Just a generation," Luke said modestly, "so it's not just me they are listening to. Memories."

"But you don't recommend sending them somewhere, like to a special school?"

"Or a temple?" Luke peeled the outer layer of his leaf away and shot Leia a sharp glance. "Right now, we have to shift the perspective of the Force. For both users and non. That it's something latent in us all, but maybe more in others. That it's something we all can live with, together. Integrated. Users shouldn't be feared by others, and users shouldn't feel superior to others."

"You've become quite the writer," Leia said.

"It's the way I thought reaches the most fastest," Luke said modestly. "Actually, I'm thinking of writing a book," he declared.

She smiled at him encouragingly, but she was his twin and he noted the caution in her question. "What are you going to put in it?"

He made a few chops with the knife before he answered, enjoying the arcing pattern of the growth rings. "I see it as a cosmography of the Force," he said, and it was the truth.

Assured, Leia turned back to the cinder fruit, rolling them under her fingers. "Oh," she said, and turned the water off.

"It's never really clear," Luke said. "Except to the individual who really thinks about it. So, everything will be in it, without specifically mentioning it. You'd have to look."

He was answering her unspoken question, are you going to mention Vader? And me?

"Oh," Leia said again, the caution back.

"I haven't started it," Luke backtracked some. "And it won't be ready for a long, long time. I'm still learning." He was glad to see her smile. "Probably wait 'til I'm dead."

She smiled again. "Wait for me. Do you like fungal domes?"

They worked on the salad together. It would just be the two of them. But Leia had set the table nicely for Luke. There was a vase of fresh flowers, cloth napkins and place mats that matched. Luke chewed cinder fruit, staring at the mats, thinking a number of things. One, that he hadn't been at a table that used mats in... since Beru, on holidays. He and Leia had lived off crates on Tatooine. He thought too how easily he talked of his future death, and she as well; again, how matter-of-fact it was; something that couldn't be avoided, something to not fear. He had put Leia at ease about any contents of his book, and she chatted easily to him, excited about Han's homecoming, even gossiping about the members of the Pentumvirate.

Leia got up and donned handshields to remove a tray from the cooker. She sat back down, and pushed a tray of golden rolls toward Luke, who grabbed one eagerly. She tossed the shields overhand across the room, where they landed with a slap on the counter. Luke grinned; it was a gesture very like Han.

"Another year and a half," she said, her jaw in her hand.

"Can't wait for it to end?" Luke asked. "I'd have figured you'd love this."

"Kiranna has deeded its western sector- a territory of half a million acres, to the Survivors of Vrakith IV. When my term is up, I'll join them as Princess of Honorary Alderaan. And maybe represent them in the Republic Senate, if they'll elect me."

Leia watched Luke blow on his burnt fingertips. "And it's not a given," she reproached Luke's answering gaze that the answer was obvious. "Not all are with me. It's got to be hard for them," she mused objectively. "Some things, like slavery and democracy, we could fix. But there's nothing- at all, ever- that can change what happened to Alderaan. Some blame me." She put up a palm when Luke's mouth opened to object. "It's alright," she said, understanding but slightly dejected. "It's understandable. But even those that want the old ways know deep down inside we can't live the same."

"Would you want to?" Luke said.

Leia dropped her hands into her lap, and Luke feared his question had made Leia lose any appetite. "I've heard it said that from really awful things beauty follows. I would want to, but if it means I can't be with Han-" she paused, looking at her lap, "Is that greedy? To want both?"

"Desire," Luke stated. "We've seen that before."

"Yes." Leia nodded. "I'm not tempted; don't worry. I know what's real. I know I can't go back. Do you like you?" she asked. "I like me. Do you want to know what gets me beyond the negativity?"

"What?"

"I think of it from his point of view. That we are something wonderful to him, and I'm glad to be able to give him that."

"Because he never desired."

She smiled. "This," she swept her hand around her apartment, which was inviting and comfortable, "has surprised the hell out of him."

"And what about you? Are you surprised?"

"Are you?" Leia turned it on him.

Luke grabbed another roll, and tore it in half. He popped a piece in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, looking at her the whole time. "What is it now, four years?"

"Almost. Three and a half."

"If three years ago, or four, or whatever, if Ben Kenobi appeared to me in a snow storm and said, you'll be a scholar, and she'll be-"

"If he even said we win I'd have not believed him," Leia laughed.

Luke laughed along. "That's true. We had all that to do still. Really it was all consuming, wasn't it? The victory for you, the truth for me." He felt serious. "That Luke, the three and a half years ago Luke- he wouldn't have been surprised to learn you died. But this Luke," he touched his chest, "would. It would floor him. Me. This," and he swept his hand out, including the matching place mats, the comfortable sitting room, the hall table with a man's boots waiting for him to come home, "this seems like the most natural progression."

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 _Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker,_ The Farmer and the Force, _page 3 chapter 4. Publication date 52 ABY._

I began this long ago. Actually, it began without me, so it doesn't really matter where you start reading. Who knows if it will even have any readers. A protocol droid I know tells me its style is unconventional and if he were the editor he'd have me organize it better, at least in chronological order, but that doesn't interest me. I have a lot of memories but it's not me I want to get across so much as it is the Force.

The Force had a beginning, too, and I'm fascinated by it, trying to pinpoint it. Over the years it too has struggled and grappled with how to be, just like all of us. I don't know where I was born, and it was years before I learned to whom, but those details aren't as important as the fact that I made it to Tatooine, just like the Force. Where did it start? Where was it born? And it spread, all over the galaxy. How?

I've been all over the galaxy too, seeking the Force; documenting its presence- sometimes those make for a good tale, a good chapter. And I'll share here the lessons it has taught me, even if you think they read more like a riddle. That's the one thing I can say definitely about the Force: you have to think. And it's not the same for every being.

I won't start with 'once upon a time'. Leia says I should; she says all life is fleeting and there will come a time when my life becomes merely a story.

She still thinks this of life, after all this time, and it breaks my heart.

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 _5 ABY_

"Han," Luke began, walking next to him. Tall, thin stalks grabbed at him like greeting friends, their yellow flower heads swaying cheerfully. "There's something I've been trying to figure out."

He hadn't seen Han for a few months. Eight, maybe. He hadn't meant it to go that long. Time slipped away from him. From Malastare, where he threshed grain alongside Gann he left to crew on a freighter to Corellia, and departed only after his lightsaber put an end to a pirate attack. But on Eloja he'd learned of a hidden holocron, relic of the Jedi, and from there had traveled to the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant, back to Dagobah, for no reason really, then to Tatooine to sit in Ben's old hut for a while. It was there, sitting on a couch at the Darklighters, that he realized how overdue he was for a visit.

"I know all I need to about you, and yet I don't know the details," he finished.

Han snorted. He looked good, Luke had to admit. Probably really good. Healthy, or something. Familiar, with the blaster still holstered low on the thigh; rangy in movement as always. His hair was a little shorter, and it had a nice cut, so that Luke couldn't even see the cowlicks that used to rebel on Han's head. His face was leaner, and he was still out of uniform but he was off duty.

"Details are just filler," Han said.

It was typical Han; Luke was gratified he was still the same, though there was something different about him, and Luke kept staring at his hair, brushing his hand over his own, suddenly aware he must look fairly shabby.

"No," Luke argued calmly. "You know mine." He began to list them. "Orphaned and brought to Tatooine-"

"Raised by your aunt and uncle," Han recited impatiently, rolling his wrist. "Clumsy moisture farmer 'til a crazy old wizard-"

"Clumsy!" Luke protested, and they laughed.

They walked on a bit, and Luke enjoyed the yellow flowers, and the insects with four wings and long tails flitting about. Ahead, at the end of a path was a large stone building. Han said with a patient sigh, "Just ask already."

"Well, I ran into a group on Eloja-"

"Eloja? You sure like to punish yourself."

Luke nodded with a smile. "It's a tough place. Attrition is really high. And- I'm doing some of Leia's cosmography stuff, about the Force, though not all I meet are humans."

"Elojans aren't."

"No. Their thinking is- well, like you said. That life is punishing. That you're born to die-"

"True, I guess."

"- but they have this tremendous sense of beauty. Of wonder. Do you know what they call the sunrise? "The Gift.' Isn't that- it's revealing, isn't it? They wake up, and just that they get to see the sunrise makes their lives, however brief, special."

"You should be doing human relations; not 3PO. Maybe you'd actually get paid."

Luke fingered the credit chips Han had given him earlier. The money would come in handy, if anything just to get Luke to the next place. He knew Han didn't understand, but it was alright; he understood Han. During the war, action held them in common. Han was still a doer, but it came with a price, and it had a goal. Luke cared for neither.

Han opened the door to the building. Dust flitted upward from the dirt floor into the shaft of sunlight created by the open door. Luke let his eyes adjust. The ceiling was very high, the floor lined with huge vats, made of durosteel.

Han spread his arms wide. "Here you are," he announced. "Lando's newest venture." He strode over to the end wall, where there stood a tiny wooden table. Above it, on a shelf, were a half dozen glasses. Han took two down and they both moved to the nearest vat. "He's making wine. This stuff's been aging a year."

Luke acknowledged the information with a nod, and made sure Han saw he was taking it all in. But he doggedly kept to what he wanted to discuss. "I've always figured your life- your childhood-" Luke clarified, "was hard. You've never really said anything."

"Sure I've said something," Han said. He opened the valve on the vat and poured until a glass was half full.

"No," Luke shook his head, "not much at all."

"I know I told you I didn't play sports." Han held a glass out and just stood there, an expectant half smile on his face. _Liar,_ Luke almost laughed to his face, but the nonsense words were Han's brand of affection. He was glad to see Luke.

Luke smiled and took the offered glass. The liquid contained inside was almost a deep chartreuse. He sniffed it. "Don't remember that. But I know you've had to fight."

Han's eyes were frank, daring. But not hostile. Because his hair was parted off-center? "How do you know?"

"I don't, really. You're just-" and it struck Luke what was different; it wasn't the hairstyle after all, and he had to change his tense. "You were- hard."

The cockiness was gone. None of that daring, defensive, irritating smugness. It had matured, like the wine, into a tailored confidence.

He still wasn't saying anything. Luke had tried in the past. During long flights he'd offer up tales of his own youth, hinting at Han and Leia to share one of their own, and always had been deftly sidetracked. Eventually, he had stopped asking, and he wasn't now. He had decided it never really mattered. "I was thinking about you, on Eloja," Luke continued. "And I wanted to know, was it always hard? Constantly hard? Or did it have moments?"

"Gifts?" Han said, and clinked his glass with Luke.

"Yeah." Luke took a sip. It tasted sweet, and fresh. The wine was chilled in the huge vats. "Mm," he said. "Those yellow flowers make this wine?"

"Alderaanian wine," Han said, leaning forward on his toes to emphasize the fact. "One of the Survivors from Vrakith IV was co-owner of a vineyard," Han told Luke. "He convinced Lando it could be done here. The fields are the wineflowers. This," he waved the glass in an arc, "is the fermenting house."

"Kiranna will be more than just an Alderaani refugee settlement if they can rebuild some industry," Luke observed. "This is pretty good."

"Not exactly the same, but close. These flowers are in the same botanic family as the ones they used for wine."

"What does Leia think about it?"

"She says the Survivors are beginning to emerge from their stupor."

Luke nodded. "I felt it. The air smells like healing."

"No, that would be the flowers. You know, you don't have to be a guru all the time."

"Yes, I do," Luke said sadly. He finished his glass and Han offered him more, but he declined. "Did you have to wait for your gifts?" he asked Han as Han shut up the fermenting house.

Han sighed. "I guess not. To always fight is hard. But you know that," he said, and stopped, looking fully into Luke's face. "Even he knew that. Your father. When you're exhausted, you still don't want to die. For some reason. You ever figure that out?"

Luke shook his head.

"Be a lot easier if you just gave in and died, don't you think?"

"That's what I'm trying to find an answer for," Luke said. "Why don't you think you did?"

Han lifted a shoulder. "Beats me. Does the Force evolve? You know- change; survival of the fittest, that kind of crap?"

"It is physical," Luke confirmed. "But it's also," he didn't want to use the word 'spiritual' but he couldn't think of a better one, "of the spirit. Could just be the Maybes."

Han shrugged again and took up off the path bordered on each side by the yellow flowers. "Yeah, so anyway, since you're alive you find things; you look for a reason to keep going. And sometimes it's just a breeze. But it's enough."

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 _To have an awareness of the Force, to feel it flowing through you, is a gift, not a power. Treat it as such._

\- From the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, _The Farmer and the Force,_ publication date 52 ABY.

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 _6 ABY_

Another cosmography, about a place called The Opening, and surrounding it a ring of high peaks, fatal to most visitors. Some called it a plague but the Adlati claimed outsiders lacked worth. Luke went because it was either magic or it was organic, and surely it was the Force. He stayed in a barn before venturing in with a guide, and the shepherd told him, in broken Basic, that long ago, a Visitor had crashed from the sky and thrown up a great cloud, obliterating the sun and causing most of the world to die.

He took ill, as he knew he would. It was a Maybe, and he was willing to call the Force's bluff. It needed him still. He hadn't done enough.

He sorted through what he knew. All that he knew. When the fever struck, they stopped moving. Luke sat against a boulder, feeling the energy surround it. He pulled out his holocomm and called Leia.

"It was a meteorite," he moaned into the comm. "And it almost killed life. It almost killed the Force."

"Luke." Leia was blurred and blue in the holoimage, not a good connection or maybe it was his fever. "Luke? You're scaring me. Where are you?"

The answer was so simple. Life was almost extinguished here, a millennia ago. And so the Force almost died too. It struggled to regain itself, dark breaking from light, and parts were lonely, desperate; violent. And parts were- just were, as life should be; growing.

"I've got Han- send your coords. We're coming. Luke, keep talking. Stay with me."

Luke said the same thing to her he said on Bespin. Not out loud. With the Force. _Hear me._ He connected himself to her, to Han, thought of the man on his way who would do anything for her, for love, who would land on a world that was known to kill, for him. _Never tell me the odds._

He stayed against the rock and sighed heavily to his guide.

"You are dying," his guide said.

Luke found it funny. "So certain are you?" he cackled. But the Force did not appreciate arrogance, that much he knew, so he sobered. "Just a couple more days. My friends are going to land. Right here, and they're going to pop out of the ship and grab me, and not give The Opening a chance to kill them. You can go if you want. Just leave me some water. "

"You paid," the guide said in his broken Basic. "I finish."

"It might be a plague," Luke said. "But it's love too, isn't it? The Visitor wants to leave, but he's stuck. He lashes out, like a scared, wounded animal. You and all the Adlati accept him, but newcomers see him as a challenge."

The charge on his comm died days ago, but Luke's smile, though feverish, was serene. _Hear me_ , he kept on through the Force, and Leia came. It was a rock that alerted him, poking into his back as Han laid him on the ground. Leia's face hovered over his eyes.

"Hell of a vacation," Han was grumbling.

Luke smiled, "I want to marry you," he blurted to Leia.

Han sort of smiled. "Told you he had a thing for you."

Leia's voice was crisp. "It was never like that and you know it."

"And Han," Luke said.

"Apparently, he had a thing for _you_ , hot shot."

Han laughed. "Come on, kid." Luke was pulled to his feet.

"Both of you," Luke said, trying to make it clear. "You two. Together. The Visitor told me. I'm a Jedi."

Han had his arm under Luke's shoulders. "When you want to be. Walk."

"I can marry you," he kept babbling to Han. Movement cleared Luke's head and his pulse receded, blood flowing again quietly along the network within his body. "The Jedi. They had that power. Because it's life. Love grows the Force. Right? Ask Leia. And the Order. They made it-"

"Careful, here. Terrain's kinda rocky."

The _Falcon_ rested on a flat, elevated plateau. "They made it lawful, because the Force, and society... wow."

Luke had it all. He couldn't express it, but it was there in front of him, the intricate entangling of spiritual Force, of reproductive love, of laws binding lives in common.

Han ran a medscan over him. "How is he?" Leia asked.

"Crazy as always. Proposed to us."

"He did? What do you think of that?"

"I've never been able to refuse him much. What about you?"

"Oh, I have. But I like the idea."

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 _Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker,_ The Farmer and the Force, _page 32, chapter 2. Publication date 52 ABY._

Really this story is about love.

Love for each other, for life. For peace. It expands ever outward.

And I'm afraid love can be lost again.

Han says that's just because I didn't have time to be afraid when I needed to, and now it's catching up with me. But I wonder if it's just me. If I didn't learn that early on, when my mother died after my birth and I cried the whole flight to my new home, never knowing if there would be love again.

He says I should get a pet.

And you know, as I wrote that, I smiled. Because- there might be truth in that. If you have love, you shouldn't fear losing it. It only changes. Physical love can die. As it should. But the spiritual love- the part that lives on in the Force- that's forever. And it changes you.

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 _7 ABY_

Ritual was rigor. Once black and white, explainable, lost to time. Symbols and dictated behaviors was all that was left of the Order, like rubble. Large robes, lightsabers, solitude.

"It's identity," Luke's Twi'lek friend argued. Su-til was Force-sensitive, but very different than Luke. He sought patterns and solutions where Luke's Force was more free-form, process oriented. "It provides belonging. Everyone needs to know they have somewhere to go."

Leia saw Su-til's point. "It's continuity," she insisted. "It's home. And I don't have one anymore, and Han never really did either, and by becoming part of the ritual we therefore are granted a home."

So Luke relented, partly because he'd never be able to refuse Leia anything, partly because time was new again. He stood before Han and Leia, a fabric scroll in his hand- another ritual, though this one had words printed on it for him to read, his cheat sheet.

"Leia," he read, "daughter of Alderaan. And Han, son of Corellia."

This was one part of the ceremony where Leia had approved a change. Luke was supposed to state the parents' names.

The biological ones, for really it was a fertility rite for the twelve goddesses of Alderaan. They didn't know Leia's biological mother's name, and she refused to list her father's. She would have happily named Bail and Breha, but it seemed to be terribly lopsided when Han had no names at all.

"On Alderaan, if one grew up in an orphanage, they got the warden to stand up for them," Leia said kindly. "Maybe Chewie...?"

"Calida," Han said. "My mother's name was Calida."

Luke made a note of it, trying not to exclaim in any kind of gratitude or surprise that Han had shared something. "And your father?"

Han shrugged. Parenthood was itself a rite of passage, Luke saw, and he thought it gave credit to his side of the debate. Han suggested, half-humored, "Mistake?"

Leia was smiling, and she put her arms around Han's neck and kissed his cheek. "How do you say 'mistake' in Corellian?"

They laughed, steeped in sadness, and Leia said quietly how much wrong there had been in the galaxy, and might be still, if they didn't stand up for it. So they named themselves children of the galaxy, and it would be a new tradition.

Now Luke brought the stand where the thick velvet pillow rested before Han and Leia, and Han took a breath and picked up half the threads that lay over the pillow and looped them around Leia's neck. Han's hands were large and his fingers callused but to his credit they weren't shaking. Han had confessed to Luke and Chewie he had practiced some. Luke thought if it were him, he might not be able to hold the strands at all.

"With this one chain," Han recited to Leia, holding up the braid he'd made, "I link my life to yours."

Now it was Leia's turn to plait the strands. Brown for shelter, she had told Luke. Green for life, and gold for fortune. Those in attendance laughed sweetly as Han had to duck his head so Leia could swing the strands behind his neck. She was quicker than Han, and of course she was, Luke thought, look at her hair, look at-

"My life woven in yours," Leia said, her voice soft and awed.

Luke brought his palm roughly to his jaw, and he knew his eyes were moist when they met Leia's. Ritual, and meaning, and rigor. Braids.

He got Han alone during the reception. "Did you know that about the braids?" He had to raise his voice over the music.

"Yeah, I asked her after the Medal Ceremony why she took the buns out," Han said, looking across the room at his bride, radiantly guffawing with Wedge. Luke smiled. "She told me- her voice was kind of... flat. Stuck in my memory. The buns were for the mission. To remind her she was on her own. And the braids were lives intersecting, or something like that. And that it was a very deliberate choice."

"Whose lives? Alderaan's?"

Han shrugged, and was pulled by Chewie away towards the dance floor. "I thought ours."

Luke watched Han dance with Chewie, a statement of fun and friendship, arms and legs swinging arhythmically, and Leia was dancing with Wedge, both imitating the Wookiee, but Luke was seeing his sister at Yavin, transformed from filthy, scrappy Princess to elegant, transcendent woman. He had no idea where she'd gotten the gown. There was a necklace too, he dimly recalled.

He had figured the hair was just another part of the outfit, something to make her sophisticated and lovely. But no, while changing into the gown she had reached up and removed the hair pins, grieving that there was no one could see who would know, really know, and in her brilliance, in an attempt to take herself beyond survival, she had woven an intricate series of braids. How many threads, Luke wondered. One for the dead, one for the living, another for the war. For memory, for the future. For friends. And healing.

She wasn't thinking about that right now. It was still with her, he knew that; it always would be. But at times when she invited it. It wasn't that it was never welcome, but it seemed to know rather than she when was the right time. And right now wasn't.

Luke grabbed Su-til and they circled Chewie, stabbing their legs and arms into the air, gyrating in celebration and laughter. Han and Leia were mindless of the beat, swaying lightly, arms holding each other tight.

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 _Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker,_ The Farmer and the Force, _page 163, chapter 7. Publication date 52 ABY._

The Force does not need to be served. It demands nothing from us except life. It's existence is contingent upon ours.

For those that wish to see an Order again, I direct you to heed these words. I have only been a farmer, as so should you. Sow the seeds of the Force; grow it, harvest it. Keep it in our lives, a friend, as family.

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 _10 ABY_

Luke leaned forward from his seat to peer down the line of beings seated in a row on the stage. Veterans of the Rebellion had gathered on Coruscant to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the destruction of the first Death Star. There were so few, Luke was sad to note. General Dodonna died two years ago. General Rieekan, though retired, was quick to respond to the invitation. In addition to Wedge, and Han and Leia, there were some of the personnel Luke didn't get to know well, and of course Mon Mothma took center stage.

A gigantic crowd stretched before them. Military air ships flew in formation overhead. The crowd, comprised of dozens of life forms, waved flags and cheered. It was a marvel, Luke thought, that even after ten years the Galactic Civil War still shaped collective conscious.

The size of the crowd had Luke wonder of the number of beings who couldn't be here. Leia helped arrange that the Darklighters, Luke's old neighbors, were in attendance. Mrs. D had told him there was not a day when she didn't think of her son Biggs.

There was no one here from the former Empire. Which was odd, Luke thought; and wrong. He knew many of them were sentenced to death for war crimes, but there were a great many who defected in surrender. The defectors were here today, but as Luke recognized them he saw they were all in New Republic uniforms. He sought Leia, noting her serene expression. Next time, he thought he'd tell her, he'd like to hear from a former Imperial citizen; how the war impacted him. Was life- better? Did philosophies change with a government?

All trace of the Empire had been erased. Cities were renamed, maps redrawn. The Imperial Palace was now the Offices of the New Republic at Coruscant. Oner, it had been nicknamed. _I'm going to Oner for my license._

Luke sat on the end, next to Han. He watched Han use a stylus and steadily color in his whole text screen so that it was black. He'd already spoken. His speech was really short, and Luke thought the crowd was grateful, for there were a good number of speakers lined up, plus bands.

Han didn't talk about the battle. He talked about the moment to decide to join the battle. And he told the crowd, "don't wait until it's too late to make a stand. Make noise." Rieekan and Leia shared a quiet laugh as the crowd applauded, and Luke figured they were probably joking how noisy Han was as a contract smuggler often threatening to leave.

Leia never liked to mark the anniversary of the Death Star. Three days ago they were on Kiranna for a much more somber ceremony, remembering the other part of that victory, the destruction of Alderaan. Luke didn't know which it was: whether it was the artifacts that furnished her residence, or her little daughter Han nicknamed Romps since she started walking, but it was true she talked of Alderaan more lately, and with an ease, like it didn't hurt.

He'd always known Alderaan was an enlightened society. And despite that, it did not save them. They were smart and wise and peaceful, and they were still gone.

When it was time for Luke to speak, he walked slowly to the podium. He thought of the size of the crowd, and how much hate could be in it. He hadn't prepared a speech, but Darth Vader weighed heavily on his mind. It had been a while since he thought of his father in that aspect. But today it was unavoidable.

"There are two sides," he began, "when there's a conflict. And both believe unflaggingly that theirs is the right one." He paused, for he found himself thinking of Owen, and the troopers that called him sand sucker before they killed him, and the limericks his squadron used to sing, rhyming words with Imp. "Even without weapons, they aim to hurt. How do we not hurt?" he asked the crowd.

"How do we not kill? How do we build understanding for the other's point of view?

"Ten years ago, I was Red Five. I was introduced today as Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. I'm not really a master but I do study the Force. I don't claim to know everything. But I do know there will be conflict. Again, and more. It is the nature of life. It is the nature of the Force. We must be ready." He paused, no longer sure of what he wanted to say. "But maybe we can do it better."

He had nothing more to add. He stood there as if lost in thought a few moments, and then headed back to his seat as hesitant, polite smatterings of applause sounded.

Han, who was not clapping, muttered out of the side of his mouth, "What the hells was that?"

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 _Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker,_ The Farmer and the Force, _page 1 chapter 1. Publication date 52 ABY._

It's time now, one of the last things I have left to me, to get this down, make it concrete; leave a path someone else can follow.

The bones of my one hand are swollen and stiff. Should I thank the Force, the circumstance of my history, that gave me a metal prosthetic that functions as well as it did so many years ago?

Beauty rises from tragedy. So Leia told me long ago. _She_ certainly did.

I am glad for the name Skywalker in that I could show the galaxy what else a Skywalker could be. I feel, at this time in my life, that I have emerged through a curtain, and finally there I am, in a spotlight, on a stage: the Luke Skywalker I have tried so hard to become.

There I am. The end.

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 _My ode is complete._


End file.
